


No Matter Where You Are

by xxCat1989xx



Series: Scomiche: The Prompt Series [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kiss without consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: To fill this prompt: I threw my phone up on stage at your concert and you accidently gave me yours when I went to get it back





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long time coming. Intended it to be a one-shot but something happened and now it's a chapter fic.
> 
> Love you all.
> 
> Enjoy <3

Scott paces up and down the length of the car park. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his side to stop himself from pulling at his hair, messing up the work Nicole has put into making him look good. She’d kill him if he did and Nicole scares him. A lot.

He’s working himself up to cancel the rest of the tour, maybe finding a cabin in the woods somewhere where he won’t have to interact with people, or sing in public ever again, when he’s interrupted mid-thought.

“Hey, America, you okay?” Avi asks as he appears in the doorway. Scott stops and squats down, leaning with his hands resting on the concrete. It grounds him whenever his anxiety tries to get the better of him, connecting with the earth beneath his feet. “We’ve been looking all over you. Fan stuff starts in ten minutes.”

Being reminded of the time causes tears to well up in Scott’s eyes and, dammit, he can’t meet a bunch of fans with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. They spend a lot of money to see him, the least he can do is not be a mess. 

Sniffling a little, Scott leans back to look up at the bright, summer sky in the hopes of keeping the tears inside, before answering. “I’m fine, fine. Just needed some air.”

“I know, man,” Avi replies, voice full of understanding and sympathy. Avi is his best friend and, as soon as his career started taking off and Scott needed help, his tour manager. “But come on, the fans always cheer you up.”

Scott has to agree with that. The meet and greets are his favourite part of any show day. He loves performing (even if he still gets stage fright). Being able to sing his songs to a screaming crowd is like a drug. He can never go long without needing a fix. But the intimacy of a small group doesn’t even compare to it. Being able to have an actual conversation, to hear how he has inspired or changed lives, and to meet the people who have made his dream a reality, who have supported him from the very beginning - there’s no feeling like it.

Standing up from his crouch, he stretches his legs out and brushes his hands off on his jeans.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “I can do this. One step at a time, right?” Scott turns to Avi, looking into familiar eyes for reassurance.

Avi nods, sure and steady. “One step at a time, same as always.”

\--

An hour later, the constant stream of fans is dwindling until just a few stragglers are left. Some are nervous; Scott can tell from their flushed, giggling faces and how they keep glancing over shyly. He smiles his signature grin in the hopes of setting them at ease, but when it sets them back off giggling, he gives up. Security will push them along soon enough. There’s one guy and girl right at the back, though, heads bent low in conversation, not looking at all nervous or eager to meet him. The girl laughs unabashedly; laughing harder when the guy hits her gently on the arm. The guy smiles, and it lights a fire in Scott’s stomach.

He’s gorgeous from what Scott can see. When he turns to look at Scott fully, he startles when he realises that Scott is staring at him and it sets the girl off laughing again.

“Come on, guys. Time is getting on a bit. Photos, quick chat and then step back into the arena for sound check,” says his security guard, Kevin, starting to usher people over to the table.

Kevin is another one of his favourites from the team he has with him this tour. From his size, he should be quite menacing, but Scott discovered after about thirty seconds of speaking to him that he’s a big softy. Scott likes seeking him out in the morning to work out or just to talk. He has this way about him that settles the anxiety and makes Scott feel like he can conquer the world.

As the fans who are left queue up by him, Scott counts off five people before the couple gets to him.

“Hi Scott, my name is Ali and I’m such a big fan,” a young girl of about fifteen says. Tears are streaming down her face.

“Oh, Ali. Thank you so much, love. Please don’t cry,” he coos, trying not to overwhelm her, but as he speaks, fresh tears make their way down her face. He quickly signs a CD and poster for her before her mom bundles her away.

Three.

Sign. Smile. “Thank you, Jess.”

Two.

Sign. Smile. “Thank you, Connor.”

One.

Sign. Smile. “Thank you, Joy.”

And then the couple are skipping over to him, hands entwined. Scott tries not to stare, but he can’t help the flicker of disappointment in his gut.  _ Straight. _ He should’ve known.

Ever the professional, Scott smiles widely and says, “Hey guys. How are you both?”

“Hey, Scott. We’re good, thank you. Excited to hear you sing tonight,” the girl answers, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Thank you. I can't wait for you to hear it. What’re your names?” He grabs the Sharpie off the table and pulls a poster towards himself, pen poised to sign.

“My name’s Kirstie, and this is Mitch, though he’s not a fan,” Kirstie leans over the table and stage-whispers the last part, earning a snigger from Mitch. She’s cute and funny. Scott thinks they definitely could’ve been friends in another life.

Scott’s hand flies to his chest and pretends to be offended. “I am hurt.” He pretends to choke back a few tears but soon starts laughing.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “It’s not personal. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That you are. I appreciate it,” Scott responds seriously, all joking aside.

Scott leans over the posters, signing one for Kirstie with smiley faces and kisses, and then signing one for Mitch. He hands it over, watching as Mitch carefully folds it. He ducks his head to hide a smile. When he looks up, Mitch is studying him; eyes furrowed slightly, lips pouting. Scott stares back, unable to take his eyes off the man stood in front of him.

Mitch is even prettier up close. Long eyelashes frame beautiful brown eyes. Long nose, cheekbones to die for, plump pink lips. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a polka dot shirt and black, skinny jeans. From this close, Scott can see how tiny he is, but he holds himself with such confidence and grace.

“Can I have a photo, please, Scott?” Kirstie asks. Scott startles slightly, almost forgetting she was still there. He mentally chastises himself for staring at her boyfriend.

“Of course, love.” He leans over the table as she takes a selfie, turning to face her at the last second and blowing a kiss. Kirstie giggles when she looks at the result, thanking him profusely.

“Your turn, Mitch,” Kirstie says, pushing an unwilling Mitch towards Scott. Mitch awkwardly leans into Scott. Kirstie rolls her eyes. “Mitchy, I know you can serve better than that.”

“God, the things I do for you,” he fires back. He instantly transforms into someone straight off a photo shoot, pouting and posing for the camera like he’s done it a million times before. Scott feels his jaw drop and he freezes at the image in front of him. Damn. Mitch is  _ gorgeous. _

A cough from Kirstie startles him out of his daze. She looks amused by the fact that Scott can’t keep his eyes off her boyfriend. Scott shakes himself before hesitantly placing his arm around Mitch’s shoulder, making his lips pout for the camera – now this he has done a million times before.

Kirstie giggles when she sees the result but hides away her phone before Scott can ask to see it.

“Scotty, come on. We gotta get to soundcheck,” Kevin calls from the doorway.

Scott looks around the room, surprised to see the three of them are the only ones left. He forgot for a moment that he has a show later that evening and feels none of the usual nerves leading up to it. Kirstie and Mitch feel like friends, not fans (or fan and boyfriend), and he really wants to get to know them better. But being a pop star and busy all of the time, Scott knows he won’t have time like normal people would. Thank god for social media.

“Damn. Okay, KO, one second.” Scott turns to the two in front of him. “Can you please do me a favour?”

Kirstie nods eagerly. “Anything.”

“Jot your Twitter handles down for me,” he responds, sliding over his itinerary for the day and the pen in his hand. “And I’ll follow you when I get a free minute later on.”

“Oh my god, okay, um,” Kirstie says, words tumbling over each other, writing down both her and Mitch’s usernames, handing the paper and pen back to Scott. He folds the paper and puts it in his pocket for safe keeping before ushering the pair over to Kevin who’s waiting at the door.

“I gotta grab something from my dressing room, but I’ll see you guys out there. Have fun today,” Scott says.

“We will. Thank you, Scott,” Kirstie says, taking Mitch’s hand in hers and the pair of them walk down the corridor, following behind Kevin. Before they get to the double doors leading back into the venue, Mitch turns to Scott and the corners of his mouth turn up in a cute little smile.

_ Oh god _ . Scott turns, walking towards his dressing room. He needs to get prettier before going out there.

\--

They’re about halfway through soundcheck, and Scott’s taking a break while the stage crew moves things around him and the sound guys mess with the levels on his in-ears. He’s sat on the edge of the stage, answering questions from the crowd.

Scott likes this part. The questions are always creative but never venture into too personal. His fans are always respectful, if not a little obsessive sometimes, and no one pushes him to answer if he doesn’t want to. It’s nice.

“What made you want to be a singer?” someone asks from the back of the crowd. He can’t see them over the lights but smiles in their direction.

“Hmm. My choir director actually. I’ve always been singing ever since I was little. It was an escape for me. And I did choir as an extracurricular activity when I was in high school. They pushed me to be better, be as good as I am now. Whenever I had confidence issues,” he hears a few snorts from the crowd and smiles, “Ha. Ha. Yes, I have the same insecurities as some of you do, or had. Anyway, I would go to the choir room and just sing. It always grounded me. When I finished school, I looked into making a demo and sent it out. It took a lot of rejections to get to this point. But I’m here now.”

“What was the demo?” someone else pipes up. Scott turns to the voice, recognising it almost instantly, even though they only talked for a few minutes. Kirstie waves at him. He waves back, smiling as he sees her bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

“It was the first single off my debut. ‘First Time.”

“Oh, I love that one,” Kirstie coos, grabbing onto Mitch’s arm and practically swooning. Scott spies a few others doing the same and blushes. Scott chuckles, bowing his head. He adjusts the white and grey flannel shirt he decided on and settles back on his arms.

“Yes. It was an easy start to the whole process. I wrote it with this journey in mind, but a lot of people associate it with something else entirely, which I don’t mind, of course. Music is always up for interpretation. Part of what I love about it. I can write a song that means something to me, but to someone else, it means something entirely different. I love hearing about it.”

A light flashes at the back of the room to grab his attention and Scott pushes one of his in-ears in.

“Scott, we need you to run another song. Think we’re nearly done,” Adam, his sound guy, says.

“Okay, Adam, thanks,” Scott says into his microphone. He pushes himself back onto the stage and over to the microphone stand, slotting his mic into position. “Right guys. We have time for one more song, and then you lot can go eat at the sound check party while I get ready for tonight.”

A chorus of groans goes around the room. Scott launches into ‘Far from the Stars’, focusing his gaze on Mitch and Kirstie standing off to the side. Kirstie has her head resting on Mitch’s shoulder and they’re both swaying slightly to the slow song. Mitch is smiling as he sings, which gives Scott the confidence to belt out the final note. If someone who doesn’t like his music is happy to be here, he must be doing something right.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s an hour until show time and Scott can’t remember the lyrics to the opening song of the night. Panic has gripped him in her vices. Sweat drips from every pore of his body. His hair has long stopped looking like an actual hairstyle after running his hands through it a million times. Scott’s fairly sure he’s going to wear a hole in the carpet with the amount of pacing he’s been doing.

Calling up his album on his phone, Scott finds the song he’s supposed to be opening with and presses play.

He tries humming along to it, but he’s out of time, and the lyrics don’t sound right to his ears. Dammit. Dammit. DAMMIT.

“FFFUUUCCCCCKKKKK,” he screams, launching his phone across the room, narrowly avoiding Avi who has popped his head through the door.

“Hey, hey, Scott,” he says, walking towards him, arms outstretched like he’s trying to tame a wild animal. Scott guesses he must look like one. He can feel his shirt stuck to his chest, can feel how wide his eyes are, how flushed his skin is. He’s such a mess, and that makes the panic spiral so far out of his control he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to sing after this.

Dropping to the floor, Scott hugs his knees to his chest and cries.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He feels rather than sees Avi drop to his knees in front of him, and then there are arms surrounding him, pulling him into a strong embrace. “What is all this about?”

“I can’t do this,” Scott wails, attempting to take deep breaths but the tightness around his chest increases. Black spots dance in front of his vision and the shaking intensifies until his teeth start chattering.

“Of course you can, Scott. Hey, hey, we’ve been through this.” Avi moves away until he’s in Scott’s line of vision, gripping onto his biceps so tightly it should hurt, but Scott needs it. Scott can see the concern in his eyes, and he makes himself concentrate of the hold Avi has, lets it ground him, lets it soothe the panic and urge to run away. “Deep breaths, man. Come on, with me.”

Avi breathes in and out, exaggerating the motion. It takes Scott a few breaths to be able to match it, but after a few moments, he can feel the panic subsiding, can feel it leaving his body, melting into the floor underneath him until he’s left a shaking, quivering mess.

Avi attempts to move away, but Scott clings to his shirt.

“Hey, Scotty. I’m just going to move us to the sofa. Can you stand up for me?” Avi takes his hands and slowly helps Scott to his feet.

They settle on the sofa, Scott tucked into Avi’s side, making himself as small as possible. Avi strokes his hand up and down Scott’s back. It feels nice, calming. Like his mom used to do when he had anxiety attacks at home. He snuggles further into Avi’s arms and sighs in contentment.

He can always rely on Avi.

“Are you going to tell me what brought this on? You were having such a good day,” Avi whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Scott’s head.

“I couldn’t remember the opening. I thought listening to it would help.” His breathing hitches again so Avi stops him and makes him take another few deep breaths.

“I guess it didn’t?”

“No. I tried humming but was a beat behind, and then I started panicking and here we are.”

“Do you remember it yet?”

“No,” Scott moans. “Maybe we should call it off. I can’t go out there. They’ll laugh at me.”

Avi pushes Scott until he’s looking directly at him. He cups Scott faces between his hands.

“No one, not a single person would laugh at you for messing up. We all love you. They all love you. You get told this every day. Do you know how many marriage proposals you get? I read them. There’s a lot. Everyone in this building is here to support you. No matter what. If you want to cancel, I support you one-hundred percent, but I don’t think you should.” Avi stands from the sofa after pressing another sweet kiss to Scott’s forehead. “Do you want me to get someone from the band to go through the songs with you? You have time to run through the first few. And I’ll grab Nicole too.” He ruffles Scott’s messy hair, making him laugh.

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Anything for you, America. Despite what your brain keeps telling you, you are not alone here.”

When Avi leaves, Scott walks over to his abandoned phone, picking it up, relieved when he sees the screen’s still intact. He opens Twitter and checks his mentions, hoping some love from the fans will calm his still-frayed nerves.

‘@Kirstie_Taylor12: At @ScottHoying’s show with my boy. Can’t wait to hear his angelic voice in person. Love you Scotty.’

He smiles when he sees the attached photo. Kirstie and Mitch are posing for the camera in front of the catwalk, smiles on their faces, although Mitch’s is more contained than Kirstie’s. Scott pushes the heart to like it.

A knock sounds at the door and his guitarist, Tom, pops his head through.

“Avi said you wanted a run-through,” Tom says, stepping into the room. He doesn’t look worried at why he’s been asked to do this, even when he can see what a mess Scott is. “Ready?” He hands Scott a bottle of water and takes a seat on the arm of the sofa.

“Ready.”

\--

Scott’s halfway through the show when he can finally step off the stage and onto the catwalk that leads into the crowd. The noise of the crowd increases the closer he gets, and it makes him chuckle into the microphone. The earlier panic still fizzes under his skin, but he’s managing to ignore it. It helps that Avi and Nicole have planted themselves right by the stage so Scott can see them whenever he needs a boost.

“Everyone having fun?” Scott shouts, smiling wide when the crowd screams back their agreement. “Good, good. I’d hate to think I was the only one.” He gets a few scattered laughs from the crowd.

Walking further down the catwalk, he waves at a few people who catch his attention along the way. A couple of them wave back and others Scott can see start crying, turning to their friends and hugging them.

When Scott gets to Kirstie and Mitch, he plonks himself down at the edge of the stage and faces them. Kirstie’s looking at him with stars in her eyes, while Mitch is playing on his phone, typing away. He nods his head to Kirstie and then gestures to Mitch. She nods and grabs his phone from his hand, tossing it to Scott.

Mitch protests loudly, although he doesn’t look mad in the slightest when he sees who now possesses it. He laughs and holds his hand out. Scott shakes his head, throwing Mitch a wink. He places the phone next to him on the stage, so Mitch can see it but not reach. Kirstie elbows Mitch and says something to him, but from where he is Scott can’t hear it.

“So, this next song is for someone I met today who told me he wasn’t much of a fan. I guess I need to try to change that.” Scott grabs the phone from next to him and passes it to Kevin, who hands it back to Mitch. He notes Mitch puts it away and Scott smiles at him, nodding his head in approval.

Standing back up on the catwalk, Scott announces his next song, the opening chords kicking in and he’s off again. Strutting up and down the catwalk, winking at the fans, belting out the high notes. He’s in heaven right now and doesn’t ever want to come back down.

\--

This must be what being high feels like. He’s bouncing up and down in the green room after the show. The smile on his face could light a city, and he feels like he could sing for hours yet. The earlier anxiety attack feels like a distant memory.

“Hey, hey, chill out. We’ve got a hell of a drive to the next city, starting early tomorrow,” Avi points out from where he’s relaxing on the sofa. He looks like he could curl up and sleep right there, but Scott can’t sit down.

Can’t think of anything other than he got through it, and he didn’t mess up, didn’t forget a single lyric. No one laughed. It looked like everyone enjoyed it if the reaction at the end was anything to go by.

“Hey, you left this on the stage,” Kevin says, poking his head through the door and tossing a small black object to Scott.

“Thanks, bro. I hadn’t even noticed.” He turns the phone over in his hand, puzzled because it looks nothing like his. The model is different, the case the wrong colour. “Hey, this isn’t mine,” Scott calls after Kevin.

“Strange.” Avi takes it from him and presses the home key, lighting up the phone. He turns it to Scott and asks, “Recognise them?”

It’s Kirstie and Mitch on the lock screen, arms wrapped around each other. Shit. Scott tries to think how the hell he ended up with Mitch’s phone.

“Dammit,” he says when it clicks.

“What? What’s up?” Avi steps up to him and hands him back the phone.

“When I took Mitch’s phone mine must’ve fallen out my pocket, and I passed that back instead of his.”

“Do you remember where he was sitting? Maybe the arena has a contact number linked to the tickets?”

Scott hums as he thinks. It could work. Hopefully, they have Kirstie’s number rather than Mitch’s, though.

He clicks his fingers when he remembers their earlier meeting. Rushing to his dressing table, Scott pushes things aside until his hand lands on the piece of paper he had Kirstie write on earlier.

“Can I use your phone, please?” Scott asks, holding his hand out to Avi.

Avi unlocks it and hands it over. “What are you doing to do?”

“Tweet Kirstie. Ask if she’s still about.”

He opens the Twitter app and types out ‘@Kirstie_Taylor12, it’s Scott. Can you accept Avi’s follow request when you get this? I need to DM you.’

“I need to shower if I’m going to meet them. I smell so bad right now. Can you let her know what’s happened if she accepts?” Scott asks, heading towards the bathroom, taking off his black and white leather jacket and tossing it towards his wardrobe case.

“Erm, Scott, you aren’t going to meet them,” Avi says, caution in his tone.

Scott stops in the doorway, half in and half out of his shirt. “What? Why?”

A stern look takes over Avi’s face.

“You don’t even know them. Just because you met them for ten minutes a few hours ago doesn’t mean you go running off to meet them. I’ll send KO. You’re going to the hotel to sleep.”

“No. I’m not. I’m the one who swapped the phones. Besides I could take both of them if I needed to, which I won’t because that is absurd. I’m going.” Scott rarely, if ever, disagrees with Avi, but this is something he needs to do. He needs to apologise. And if he wants to see Mitch again, so be it.

“Scott…” Avi starts, rubbing a hand over his face, tension written in the lines of his forehead.

“No, Avi. You can come with me if you want, but I’m doing this. Besides, until Kirstie answers, we don’t even know if they’re still here.” Scott grits his teeth when Avi starts shaking his head. “What?” he demands. “I’m not a child. You can’t send me to my room.”

“No, Scott, I can’t,” Avi says. From here, Scott can see him tense his shoulders, and he knows what’s coming before Avi even opens his mouth. “But I am your tour manager and your wellbeing is so much more important to me than your damn phone, which we can get replaced. Look,” he holds his hands up in front of him, silencing Scott who’s about to scream in anger and frustration. “How about I go see if they’re still in the arena somewhere? I know some of the VIPs left their belongings in the party room.” It sounds like a truce if one was ever needed and Scott nods in acceptance of this.

“Okay. Okay. You do that. Bring them here if you find them?” Scott asks, removing the rest of his clothes until he’s stood in just his boxers. He’s long got over being shy in front of Avi.

“Whatever. Go shower. You smell ripe. We don’t want to scare them off.” Avi winks at him and leaves him to chuckle quietly to himself.

Right, shower. Clothes. Hopefully, Mitch is coming, and Scott needs to look good. His heart flutters in his chest at the thought of seeing him again. And Kirstie, of course. _Not gay_ , he thinks, switching the shower on. _Mitch is not gay._


	3. Chapter 3

Scott’s drying his hair with a towel when the door to his dressing room creaks open and several loud voices enter, floating through the open doorway into the bathroom. Dropping the towel on the side and poking his head round the door, he sees that Avi has indeed managed to find Kirstie and Mitch. He runs his hands down his shirt nervously, straightening out any creases and fluffs his still damp hair, wincing as his hand catches on a knot. Nothing he can do about that now. He steps through the open door.

Kirstie and Mitch have both made themselves comfortable on the sofa, sat on opposite ends as they watch Avi talk with tears of laughter in their eyes. Avi’s gesturing animatedly as he tells a story from the previous tour from his perch on the coffee table, a story he _specifically promised_ would never see the light of day again.

Scott turns to see Kevin propped against the door with his arms crossed, trying to look menacing, but he’s failing miserably considering he looks like he’s thirty seconds away from crying with laughter too. Scott rolls his eyes at him when Kevin notices him in the room.

“Haha, Avi, hilarious. Are we done making fun of me now?” Scott whines, walking towards the cackling group of people.

“Scotty,” Kirstie exclaims, jumping from the sofa and walking purposefully towards Scott. Kevin tries to stop her, but Scott puts his hand up, halting Kevin in his tracks. Kirstie barrels into his chest and Scott envelopes her in his arms. She burrows her head into his neck. “You were so amazing. I was crying by the end. Mitchy, tell him how good he was.”

Scott chuckles at her enthusiasm and rubs her arm softly. “Thank you, Kirstie. That means a lot. I’m not keeping you guys from anything, am I?” He’s suddenly worried that he’s kidnapped them accidentally. He releases Kirstie from his arms, though she doesn’t move far, keeping her hand on his arm.

Mitch waves a hand at him. “Other than my bed, no. We’re good. We don’t live that far away. It’s not every day a pop star invites you back to his dressing room.” Mitch tilts his head in question. “Why exactly are we here?”

“Oh right.” Scott walks over to his dressing table and grabs Mitch’s phone. He tosses it to Mitch, who fumbles to catch it. “I believe that is yours.”

Mitch looks at him confused for a second before realisation dawns on his face. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out Scott’s phone, pressing the home key. It lights up momentarily, Mitch chuckling at the photo when he sees it. Standing from his spot on the sofa, he almost stalks towards Scott. Scott’s next breath catches in this throat when Mitch stops in front of him. Their height difference is massively noticeable now there isn’t a table between them.

A beat passes of them staring at each other. The left side of Mitch’s mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile, and Scott knows he probably looks like a rabbit caught in headlights, but he can’t stop looking into Mitch’s eyes. Beautiful brown eyes that remind him of melted chocolate; luxurious and sweet. He feels like he’s in a trance. The earth could shake beneath his feet, and even then Scott doesn’t think he’ll be able to break his gaze.

“Earth to America!” Avi shouts, finally pulling Scott out of his head.

“What?” Scott responds, slowly turning his head away from Mitch, only breaking eye contact at the last possible second. He doesn’t step away from Mitch and he notices Mitch doesn’t move away either.

“Now that’s done, can we get going? We’ve got a twelve-hour drive to the next show tomorrow.”

Scott glares at Avi, trying to convey his extreme displeasure at the idea of leaving so soon.

“Oh, right. What time do you leave tomorrow?” Kirstie asks, not even trying to disguise her disappointment that the party is being cut short.

Avi turns to her with an apologetic expression on his face. “About four. I’m sorry. I wish we could stay...” He trails off when he meets Scott’s eyes.

Scott turns back to face Mitch, who has a blank look on his face, not giving away how he feels. Scott gets it. He, himself, wears his heart on his sleeve; every thought and feeling usually wrote across his face for everyone to see. He wishes he could hide it sometimes, especially now.

Avi reminding him of what they’re doing tomorrow is like a cold shower, making him mournful thinking about what could never be. He’ll never have the chance for ordinary friendships. No texting each other to meet up for coffee whenever they feel like it, no spontaneous shopping trips, no clubbing nights. This is the first time since he started singing that Scott wishes he could stop it all. It settles like a lead weight in his stomach.

And then Mitch surprises him by holding his hand out and saying, “Well, it’s been very nice to meet you, Scott Hoying. Hope the rest of your tour goes as well as tonight did.”

Dumbstruck, Scott shakes his hand, feels electricity run up and down his arm at the mere touch. It takes everything he has to pull away. _Not gay._

“Thanks.” Finally letting go, he turns to Kirstie and pulls her into his arms. “I’ll follow you on Twitter when I get to the hotel. Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Oh, Scott. I wasn’t going to miss tonight for anything.”

She squeezes him tightly for a moment before letting go and stepping away. Mitch holds his hand out for her to take.

“Bye guys,” Mitch says, voice small and sad, and they leave the room.

If Scott’s heart goes with them, well, only he has to know about it.

\--

Scott’s been checking his Twitter for two weeks and, apart from the conversation via DM’s he’s been having with Kirstie since the morning following that show, he’s heard no word from Mitch. Mitch followed him on Twitter (and Scott had followed him back with a smile on his face) before he’d even got back to the hotel. Attempts at starting a conversation have fallen on deaf ears though, and it doesn’t take long for Scott to give up. He knows when something is a lost cause.

‘So where are you tonight?’ Kirstie sends as he’s getting ready to go on stage.

He loves that he can pick up his phone and someone is at the other end. Scott hasn’t had an anxiety attack in the lead up to a show since he started talking to Kirstie. He’s so thankful she bought a ticket to his show. He sent her a massive box of merchandise the week before to express his gratitude – which was received pretty well if the caps lock DM he got was anything to go by.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t have my tour dates memorised,’ he sends back before locking his phone. She’ll still be there when he’s finished and comes back to a million screaming DM’s about everything from his singing to his outfit as she follows the show on Twitter.

Still, he wishes that Mitch had responded to at least one of his messages. A simple ‘hello’ would suffice. He wanted to ask Kirstie about him (turns out Kirstie has a boyfriend, but it’s not Mitch - “Ew, no, he’s hot, but more like a sister, and he definitely doesn’t swing this way.”), but felt it would be too awkward to ask his new friend about _her_ friend, so he didn’t.

As much as he wanted to.

Scott had even typed out a message for her to pass to Mitch before he stopped himself and deleted the whole thing. He could’ve sent it directly, but no, sending a love note to a practical stranger is borderline creepy and Scott is not about that.

The show goes off without a hitch, and before he knows it, Scott is back in his hotel room, tucked up in bed watching ‘Frozen’ for the billionth time on his laptop when his phone pings. He unplugs it from its charger and nearly drops it in surprise when he sees a tweet.

Not a DM, an actual public tweet from the person he’s been quietly pining over.

‘@QueenMitchy123: whoever put @ScottHoying in a vetements jacket tonight needs a pay raise'

Mitch has attached an image of Scott on stage wearing his favourite oversized, black leather jacket over a white tank and jeans. The picture is good as a whole. Whoever took it managed to catch Scott in his element, singing and smiling, one arm thrown wide like he’s embracing the crowd.

He likes the tweet, hands shaking so he misses the first time, before opening up his DM feed to Mitch.

‘Hey. Thanks for the tweet’

Once it’s sent, he feels like an idiot. Who thanks somebody for having sent a tweet? It wasn’t even directed at him. But maybe Mitch hoped he’d see it. He did tag him in it. Just as he’s about to put his phone away, embarrassed even though no one can see it but Mitch, which is probably worse, his phone vibrates in his hand.

‘i only speak the truth'

Scott lets out a nervous laugh. He snuggles back into the bed sheets with his phone tucked to his chin, laptop forgotten next to him, and eagerly types out a response.

‘Candice is a miracle worker. Only she could make me look that good.’

‘you underestimate yourself. she just dresses you. you’re the one who wears the clothes’

Scott blushes. Is Mitch flirting? Can that be classed as flirting? He wishes he could see Mitch’s face to know what expression was on his face when he sent it. Deciphering meaning over text is hard.

But does he flirt back? Scott doesn’t want to come across as weird. This is the first time in weeks that he’s spoken to Mitch and he doesn’t want to scare him off so soon. And as Scott has been told in the past, sometimes he tries too hard.

He settles for ‘Bet it’d look better on you’. He adds a winky face for good measure. There. That wasn’t so bad. Flirty but not over-the-top. He’s a little proud of himself.

‘girl, ofc it would look better on me but my wallet would cry at those prices’

‘I’m lucky that Candice managed to get a few samples for me. You’re welcome to take any of it, I prob won’t wear most of it after tour.’

‘...are you telling me i can’t afford my own clothes’

‘No. Omg. That’s not what I was trying to say.’ _Shit,_ Scott thinks, _let’s try not to offend the person you’re trying to impress_. Panic grips his chest as he waits for a response, the three little dots at the bottom of the window taunting him, especially when they disappear only to reappear again seconds later.

‘scott, I was kidding lmao you’re fine. thanks for the offer but i’m good :)’

Scott lets out a massive sigh of relief and flops on his side. _Oh, thank god._

‘so how’s tour life?’ Mitch sends without waiting for a response.

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He could say that it’s great. He gets to tour the country with his best friends and see some breathtaking places in the US that he never knew existed, and they are talking about setting up dates in Europe next time. He gets to sing songs he wrote and recorded for people who paid actual money to see him. It’s an amazing feeling.

Or he could say it’s really hard. Being away from any routine; long days spent on the road, long nights spent tossing and turning in bunks or hotel rooms that don’t feel like home. He misses his family, so much so that Scott has to cut short phone calls because he can’t stop himself from tearing up at how much he’s missing his mom’s cooking or his sisters teasing him every chance they get.

It takes Scott so long to think of an appropriate response that doesn’t sound like he’s either rubbing in how spectacular his life is, or like he’s hoping for sympathy because being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, that when he looks back down at the screen, Kirstie has sent him a DM too.

‘Hey, so like, I know Mitch is talking to you...finally. If you could respond before I kill him, that would be great. Okay? Thanks, bye x'

He chuckles at her message, confused as to why she wants to kill Mitch, before switching back to the conversation with Mitch and types ‘It’s fine. Busy and tiring but I’m really lucky to be able to do this.’ There - that is both honest, but not hating on the thing that improved his life beyond his wildest dreams.

It doesn’t take long for a response. ‘and now can i have your non-media trained answer?’

 _Shit_ , he thinks. What does he say now? No one has ever called him out before, typically just accepting his answers. He really needs to work on his acting skills if someone who barely knows him can pick up on his lie _through the internet._

But this is Mitch who’s asking. Mitch, who Scott’s been quietly pining over ever since he left LA, and if he wants (hopes) that they’ll become friends one day, he can’t start a friendship by lying.

Taking a steadying breath he types, ‘Tour has its good and bad things about it. I love singing and I love visiting places I’ve never been before. I love being able to provide for my family and make my Mom and Dad proud of me. Nothing can beat getting on stage and singing songs that I wrote and have people sing them back to me. But I miss being in one place for extended periods of time. Even when I’m home in LA, I’m still working and time off is rare. I miss being able to see my parents when I want to and not when I can schedule it. My nephew is growing up so fast and I’m missing so much of it. And I still get stage fright.’

He sends the message then quickly locks his phone, nervous about the response he’s going to get.

Mitch is going to hate him. He’s sure of it. He’s going to think he’s some self-absorbed pop star who thinks the world revolves around him. _Oh god_. Scott sits staring at the opposite wall, feeling himself spiralling further and further into his panic.

His phone buzzes twice before he can build up the courage to read, tears in his eyes at the thought of losing a friend before he’s even really got him.

‘you still get stage fright? really??? you seemed awfully confident on the stage when we saw you'

‘i get it though. i’m a bit of a homebody so i’d miss everyone too much if I was away for a long time and i don’t think any less of you for being honest about it'

Scott breathes a sigh of relief at Mitch’s words.

‘You didn’t see me before the show. And thank you. A lot of people tend to think I’m whining about living ‘the life of a rockstar’. It isn’t anything like you see on the tv and in magazines.’

‘i can imagine it isn’t and i don’t think you’re whining. i did ask for the truth.'

He tries to think of something to say, something to take away the panic and discomfort at having his innermost thoughts and feelings out there. Scott didn’t want to spew all that, but he can’t take it back now. It’s out there. Mitch can see it. It’s in black and white on his screen. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s squeezing his phone.

Mitch saves him, though, by asking ‘So where’s the next show?’ like he knows Scott’s mid-breakdown and the conversation moves on to safer territory. This is easy. He can list his shows in his sleep.

Scott settles in for a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this before I can change my mind. It's self-edited so any mistakes are mine. Sorry it's taken so long to update. Next one will be posted in a few days. :)

‘What are you wearing tonight?’ Mitch asks him a week later. They’ve been messaging each other a lot. Whenever Scott hasn’t been on the stage or in a studio, he’s been glued to his phone, something Avi and Nicole won’t stop teasing him about. Kirstie may have passed a comment about Mitch doing the same a time or two. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy thinking about it.

“Aw, is that Mitch?” Nicole coos, as she runs wax through his hair for his show that evening.

Scott sighs in exasperation at her tone, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket out of view. He can’t do anything to stop the smiling gracing his lips though. “If you must know, yes, it’s Mitch.”

“I’m only playing, babe. I think it’s cute. It’s about time you had someone.”

“I don’t have anyone. He’s just a friend. If that even.” Scott feels the melancholy coming on. He runs his finger across the edge of the dressing table. “Friendships are so hard to keep when you don’t ever see people face to face. He’ll get bored of messaging me, of never seeing me, of having to wait for me to fit him into my life. It always happens.”

“I don’t think it will this time. You’ve been different since you’ve been talking to him. More confident. More relaxed. Less panicky.” She drops a wink at his reflection. “Honestly, babe, give it time, you’ll see I’m right.”

“I hope you are,” Scott responds softly as his phone pings again.

“You can answer that. I've finished with you anyway. Don’t mess up your hair,” she warns, dropping a kiss to his cheek as he stands from the chair.

“Thanks, love. I’ll see you later. Drinks after the show?”

“Definitely.”

\--

Not again.

Scott can’t take any more of this. He’s due on stage in fifteen minutes, and the nerves and anxiety are too much. He grips his hair in his hands as he paces the corridor between his dressing room and the side of the stage. People keep glancing at him in concern as they pass but no one stops. They know how he gets and they wouldn’t be able to help anyway.

The shakes intensify, the tears fall, the panic spirals as he imagines everything that could go wrong; his microphone not working, tripping over his own feet, forgetting the words.

Scott’s ears buzz as blood rushes past them. He feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his body. He’s so stuck in his head that he jumps when Avi puts his hand on his arm and tugs gently. Scott follows on legs that feel like they’re weighed down with bricks until Avi leads him into a side room, pushes a bottle of water into his hands and forces him to sit on the floor. Scott pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on them.

“Hey, America. Speak to me? What’s going on?” Avi asks softly, rubbing a comforting hand up and down the side of his leg, from knee to hip and back again until Scott gets his breathing under control.

“Can’t do it. Too much,” he manages to get out through gritted teeth.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can call the whole thing off.”

Scott looks up at Avi, sees the worry in the lines around his eyes, knows it’s genuine. Avi actually would call the whole thing off if it meant Scott was okay. Scott grabs Avi’s free hand in his and squeezes. He squeezes so tight that Avi winces but doesn’t let go.

“No. Don’t want to disappoint people.” The thought of upsetting his fans, the people who’ve travelled to see him, who’ve rallied for him to perform in their city, it makes the panic well again and the tears start to fall freely.

“Scott, I only care about you. It’s your choice. What do you want to do?”

“I want…” he starts, thinking for a moment before it clicks. “Can you send my number to Kirstie, please? Ask her to call me.”

Avi’s already reaching for his phone before Scott’s finished, handing Scott’s over that he was keeping in his pocket until the end of the show. He watches Avi scroll through Twitter and then type a few words before he locks it and puts it away. Scott grips his phone tighter in his hand, staring at the screen as he waits for it to light up.

“I’m going to give you two a moment. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Take your time.” Avi pats his arm gently as he gets up and leaves the room, pulling the door shut quietly. Scott knows he’ll be standing just the other side to keep people out and stay close in case Scott needs him. He’s so glad this is one friendship he managed to bring along with him on this journey.

Scott stares so intently at his phone that he jumps when his ringtone starts. It’s a FaceTime notification, not a call, but he still rushes to press answer. His eyes widen in shock though, when instead of Kirstie’s bright smile staring back at him, it’s Mitch.

“Hey Scotty,” Mitch greets, “Kirstie’s on a date at the moment so asked me to call instead. I hope that’s okay?”

Scott sits stunned, mouth opening and closing, as he tries to think of something to say. He rushes to brush the tears still falling away. Scott was expecting Kirstie, who knows how he gets before shows, not Mitch - who yes, he’s told he gets stage fright, but he’s never known how bad it can be. Scott’s never explained the overwhelming panic, the urge to run; the fight or flight that takes over his body every time he thinks about performing. She knows exactly what to say to talk him down. He should’ve thought it was strange when he hadn’t spoken to her at all today, but he’s been locked in the studio trying to make a start on a new song.

“Scott, are you okay? Why aren’t you on stage? Kirstie said the show was starting soon.”

“It is. I just… stage fright,” Scott explains. He reaches for his bottle of water and takes a sip as he watches Mitch’s face. He can see when Mitch understands and then sympathy settle in his eyes.

“And Kirstie knows what to say to calm you down.” He watches as Mitch flops onto a couch and settles in, pulling a cushion across his lap. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be as good as Kirstie, but how can I help?”

“I don’t kn-” he starts before saying, “Tell me about your day.” Scott settles back as Mitch launches into a story about an argument between a customer and one of his colleagues. He feels the panic subside, feels the shaking stop as his body settles. He grins at how lively Mitch gets as he’s telling the story, genuinely happy as a warm feeling spreads through his body.

It’s been fifteen minutes when Avi knocks on the door, pulling both Scott and Mitch out of their bubble. Scott turns to look at his friend.

“How are you doing, America? Ready to conquer the world yet?”

“Yeah. Yes, just give me one second.”

“Of course.” Avi leaves the room again but keeps the door open.

Scott turns back to Mitch. Mitch looks so tired, but he can see him fighting it; fighting the pull of sleep to make sure Scott’s okay.

“Thank you,” Scott murmurs. “I feel a bit more human now.”

“No problem, sweetheart. I’m glad I could help.” Mitch smiles at him, bright and open, fondness in his eyes. “Hey, save this number in your phone. It’ll be easier to text than always checking Twitter. I had to turn my notifications off.”

“Why? Has someone become Mr Popular?” Scott teases. He pushes himself off the floor and brushes the back of his legs.

“Haha. No. Since you followed me, I have everyone asking me how I know you and if I could get messages to you. It’s crazy.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mitch shakes his head. “Don’t be. I can ignore it.” He yawns, mouth so wide Scott can hear his jaw crack. Scott winces. “But yeah, no notifications and the boss gets mad at me for having Twitter open on the computer at work. So text me instead, please, before I get fired.”

Scott laughs, “Okay, no worries. I’ll text you when the show is over? If you’re still awake.”

“Yes, please do. Have fun. Knock ‘em dead.” Mitch blows him a kiss and hangs up.

Scott walks over to Avi, who’s looking up and down the corridor, attempting to give Scott some semblance of privacy as he finishes the call. He looks up when Scott stops in front of him, flashing him a grin and a wink.

“Better?” Avi asks.

“Better.”

\--

“So, when can I fly you and Kirstie out to another show?” Scott asks Mitch a few days later. They’ve been FaceTiming for the past hour, Scott’s phone propped up on the nightstand in his hotel room as he dumps clothes in his suitcase. He’s leaving for another city in five minutes and Mitch offered to keep him company as he packed. Truth be told, he’s only been packing for ten minutes, and it was only when Mitch reminded him of the time that he realised how soon he needed to leave.

“How about never?” Mitch retorts. He’s not even looking at the camera as Scott pouts at the screen. Mitch has been painting his nails purple for the past twenty minutes, only looking up whenever Scott asks him if he likes “this shirt”, or “these pants”.

“But Mitchyyy,” Scott whines.

He hears Mitch sigh but can make out the smile on his face as he puts the brush back in the bottle and gives Scott his full attention.

“Okay. When are you back in California?” Mitch asks. He starts blowing on his nails and Scott thinks it’s adorable.

Scott rushes over to his itinerary. He scans the list until “San Francisco, June 6th.” He looks back over to Mitch who’s frowning.

“That’s next Tuesday, Scott. I can’t get time off work that soon.”

“Please. I want to see you.”

“Scott, no.”

“But, please,” he pulls out the puppy-dog eyes. Mitch glares at him, eyes hard, and it would be scary if the corners of his mouth weren’t twitching as he tries to suppress a smile. Scott stares at him for a full minute, refusing to break eye contact, before Mitch throws his arms up.

“Oh, fine. What the pop star wants the pop star will receive.”

“Yes!” Scott exclaims, fist-pumping the air, making Mitch giggle.

“But… you are  _ not _ paying for our flights. We’ll drive up.”

“Mitchy!”

“No, we’ll drive. It’s what six-ish hours. It’ll be fine. Roadtrip.”

A knock sounds at the door before Avi opens it with his key. He pops his head around the frame, long hair billowing around his face from where it falls underneath his snapback.

“America, two minutes,” Avi calls. “Hey, Mitch.”

“Hi, Avi.”

Scott turns to Avi and says, “Okay, I’ll be right out.” Scott zips his case up as Avi closes the door behind him.

He turns back to Mitch. “So I’ll text you the details later?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll let Kirstie know and try to come up with an excuse for work. Have a good day, Scotty boy. Speak to you soon.”

Scott says bye and blows him a kiss as the call hangs up. He grabs his phone and suitcase, double checking the room for anything he may have forgotten.

Five days until he sees Mitch. Five days. He leaves the room with a smile etched on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of my wonderful mood, here's a new chapter for you. <3

Scott is mad. Like really mad. Like if he wouldn’t be surprised if there is steam coming from his ears like in the cartoons he’s seen on the tv. Everyone is giving him a wide berth whenever they pass him in the corridors. Even Nicole has reigned in the joking as she sets his hair and brushes makeup over his face.

Mitch and Kirstie were supposed to be here an hour ago, but with a breakdown on the freeway, they were stuck in traffic until it clears and it wouldn’t look like they’d make it in time for the show. Kevin knows to let them in as soon as they get there, but Scott wouldn’t be able to see them until after.

Did he mention he was mad?

“Scott, it doesn’t matter. You’ll still see them after. We aren’t going anywhere tonight, and I’ve got them a room at the hotel with us. It’ll be fine.”

“I told him I wanted to fly them out.”

“America, not everyone is comfortable with having money splashed on them. Mitch wanted to drive, so they drove. Honestly, I’m glad he’s like that. Means he’s not looking for handouts. I can sleep peacefully knowing that they’re genuine people rather than hangers-on.”

Scott whirls to face his friend. “Of course they’re genuine people.”

“I didn’t mean any offence by it, Scott.” Avi raises his arms in surrender.

Scott deflates at the wounded look on Avi’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just tense.”

“I know. Look, do you want me to call Mitch before you go on stage?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be okay. They’ll be here later. That’s enough to get me through. How long till I go on?”

Avi checks his watch. “Five minutes. So warm up. It’ll be over before you know it and they’ll be waiting backstage when you’re done.” Avi pats him on the shoulder as he leaves, no doubt clearing a path to the side of the stage.

Scott takes a deep breath.

He has a show to do.

\--

Scott’s walking back up the catwalk towards the end of the show when he spots them waiting in the wings. Kirstie waves at him enthusiastically from the side of the stage, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. He waves back, a grin threatening to split his face in two before he looks at Mitch. And honestly, he’s glad he isn’t singing right now because he would be messing up the lyrics so bad.

Mitch looks like a dream, like every birthday and Christmas and wish he’s ever made all rolled into one. The most beautiful view in the world wouldn’t be able to compete with the person he’s looking at. And it’s taking everything in him not to walk over and envelop him in his arms. He’s not entirely certain he’ll be able to let go.

He has plenty of time to hold Mitch later. Two songs left. Two songs and he can do just that.

Scott throws Mitch a wink and turns back to the crowd.

“So, San Francisco. You’ve been wonderful, but every great thing must come to an end.” He waits for the chorus of boos that go around the room to calm down before he continues. “I only have two songs left for you. So I want to hear you screaming as loud as you can. I want you stamping your feet, and I want you singing along if you know the words. Can you do that for me?”

The noise from the crowd is immense. It makes his skin tingle happily.

Today has been a good day.

He launches into his next song and sings his heart out.

\--

The show ends, and Scott walks off the stage, steps purposeful. He has people waiting for him, and damn anyone who comes between them.

“Where are they, Avi?” Scott demands as he hands off his microphone. He lets one of the techs unhook his in-ears and then he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet as he anxiously waits for Avi to answer him. He can barely hear anything over the sound of the crowd still screaming but sees Avi point back down the corridor towards his dressing room.

Scott nods his head in thanks before walking through the bustling crowd of people waiting to start dismantling the set. He heads down the corridor, thanking people who say congratulations to him on the way past, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach.

He’s feet away from Mitch. After weeks of talking, after days of knowing that it wouldn’t be long until he saw him again, it’s finally happening. And he’s nervous.

Not the kind of nervous he is before he goes on stage. This definitely isn’t that.

Scott knows that Mitch likes him, he knows he already gets along with Kirstie; he feels like they’ve been in his life for years, not a month. He knows this is going to go well. But it doesn’t stop the feeling of hysteria rushing up his throat until he feels like he’s choking on his emotions.

He reaches the door to his dressing room and turns the handle slowly, waiting for his world to stop spinning, trying to get the dizziness and nausea to settle back down with a couple of deep breaths.

Scott barely gets the door open a few inches, though, before it’s wrenched from his hand and then his arms are full of a bouncing, now-brunette Kirstie, who squeezes him until he laughs, amazed at the strength in her petite frame. He wraps his arms around her, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Well, hello to you too, Kit,” he chuckles, swaying her slightly in his arms.

“Hi, hi, sorry we’re late,” she says, leaning back to look at him. “Some idiot thought it would be a good idea to breakdown today.”

“That’s okay. You’re here now.” Scott pulls her back in and rests his head on top of hers. She feels so good. He’s glad he convinced them to come.

A throat clears in the room. “Don’t I get a hug?”

It feels like he’s been doused in cold water when Scott looks up and Mitch is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, hip cocked to the side. Kirstie lets Scott go, and he hurries to straighten his clothes. He’s sweaty from the stage, and when he runs his hand through his hair to check it’s in place, he grimaces.

“I’m going to find Avi. Get details for the hotel. Not be here right now,” Kirstie murmurs, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

He’d be able to hear a pin drop in the silence that echoes around the room. The tension level increases until Scott can taste it.

“Hi,” Mitch says, voice fond as he studies Scott from across the room.

“Hey,” Scott replies, voice cracking. He feels a blush erupt on his cheeks in embarrassment and he ducks his head.

Footsteps advance on him until Mitch’s shoes appear in his line of sight. A hand hooks under his chin and forces his head up, and then Scott is looking at Mitch; face to face for the first time in weeks, looking into beautiful, brown eyes that are filled with fondness. A moment passes before slender arms wrap around his waist and Scott’s heart stutters. Scott wraps his own arms around Mitch and pulls him into a tight embrace.

It’s like birds singing in the morning; it’s like the sun setting in the distance; it’s like that first sip of coffee. It’s like trying on clothes that fit the first time and finding a parking space right outside the door.

It feels perfect. Mitch fits against his front like he was made to be there.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Scott whispers, not wanting to break the quietness of the moment.

“Me too,” Mitch replies, sighing in contentment, squeezing his arms tighter before pulling away to look up at Scott, smile as bright as the sun. “Me too.”

\--

Mitch is telling him about the drive up when Avi and Kirstie come to find them twenty minutes later. Scott’s crying with laughter; tears streaming down his face and cheeks aching from laughing so much. Something about a flat tire and a cat, and Scott can’t breathe.

They’re sat on the sofa in Scott’s dressing room, pressed up against each other, side-by-side, so there’s no space between them, and it’s nice. Scott can feel the warmth coming off Mitch and smell his cologne, and Scott’s missed this, the feeling of someone right next to him, in his space.

“America, haven’t you changed yet?” Avi greets with. “We’re supposed to be leaving in five minutes.”

“Got distracted?” Scott supplies, laughing at the ‘oops’ look on Mitch’s face. His eyes sparkle, and it takes everything in Scott to look away.

“Oh god, are you two going to be like this all night?” Kirstie admonishes, knowing look on her face as she smiles at Scott.

“Probably,” Mitch answers, standing from the sofa. Scott already misses him. “Come on, Kirst. We’ll head over to the hotel and get checked in. Is it all setup Avi?”

“Yeah, just give your names at the reception. They’ll sort everything out.”

“Great, thanks.” Mitch grabs his jacket and bag off the chair in the corner before turning back to Scott. “See you in a bit?”

“Of course. I’ll be there soon.” Scott’s surprised when Mitch comes back over and hugs him, short and sweet and nowhere near long enough, but he lets them go with a smile and a wave.

“You’ve got it bad, America,” Avi jokes, as the door closes quietly behind them.

Scott sighs, rubbing his hand across his face. “I know.”

“It’s not a bad thing. For the record, you could do worse.”

“Heyyy, thanks for that ringing endorsement. I wasn’t aware I needed your approval,” he grouses, walking over to his bag for a change of clothes; sweats and a t-shirt until he can get in the shower. He can’t wait to wash away the makeup and sweat from being on stage. He’s starting to feel sticky, and he knows he smells. How Mitch could stand to be sat next to him, Scott has no idea.

“Probably because he likes you too.”

“What?” Scott asks, turning back to Avi.

“You said that last bit out loud. Maybe be careful when you’ve had a few drinks,” Avi says, laughing at the sheepish look Scott gives him. He pats him on the back. “Two minutes. Come on, outside is clear now, so should be a straight run to the hotel.”

Scott rushes to get changed, eager to be back with Mitch and Kirstie. He can’t believe they drove all this way for him. He has one night with them, one night before reality sets back in, but Scott plans to make the most of it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Have chapter 6 before I change my mind. Not edited - only gave it a read through to check for obvious mistakes.

A knock sounds at Scott's door as he's getting out the shower, towelling his hair dry.

"One second," he shouts, rushing to pull his sweats on.

"If you're putting clothes on, don't bother." Scott hears Kirstie shout back. He laughs as he slips a t-shirt on over his head.

Rushing to the door, he takes a deep breath before opening it, running a hand through his damp hair to push it back off his face.

"Hi, hi, welcome," Scott greets, stepping back to let Kirstie and Mitch in. Kirstie pats him on the chest as she passes before going over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Mitch stops in front of him and looks up. "Hi," he says, biting his bottom lip. "I like this look." He gestures to Scott's hair and down before going to join Kirstie. They both look anxiously around the room, waiting for Scott's cue.

"Thanks." Scott can feel the heat in his cheeks, but he ignores it as he goes over to them. "Please, make yourselves at home. There are drinks in the mini-bar if you want anything. I'm going to order room service. Anyone want anything?"

"Fries, please," Kirstie moans, "I don't think we've eaten since our stop this afternoon."

"Coming right up." There's another knock on the door as he picks up the phone. "Can you get that?" Scott asks, placing their order as Kirstie bounces over to the door. He hears muffled voices as she greets whoever it is, and then Avi, Nicole and Kevin walk through the door. Scott flashes them a smile before doubling their order. He hangs up and sits on the bed against the headboard as everyone says hi to each other.

"You must be Mitch," Nicole says, coming over to shake Mitch's hand. She glances up at Scott, winking at him. Mitch must notice because he chuckles and turns to Scott. Scott hides his burning face in his hands.

"Subtle, Nicole."

"Sorry." She smiles faux-sweetly before going over to join Kirstie at the mini-bar.

"I saw tonight went well. Great show, Scott," Kevin says, taking the heat off Scott. Scott smiles gratefully.

"Yeah, it did. The crowd seemed to love it."

"The crowd always love it," Avi says, taking the beer that Kirstie hands to him. "Thank you." She brings one over to Scott before settling herself next to him, leaning against his arm as she takes a sip out of her bottle.

"I'm sorry we were so late. Had I known the traffic was going to be like that, we'd have left earlier," Mitch begins, but Scott cuts him off.

"Hey, it's fine, You're here now." Scott shrugs, jostling Kirstie a little. She whines at him before settling back down. "No sleeping," he chides softly, but he lets her snuggle back into his side, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"I have no idea why she's so tired. I drove us here."

"Hey, being a passenger is hard work when you're driving," Kirstie grumbles as she sits up.

Everyone laughs before starting conversations up between themselves as Scott looks on. He watches as Nicole and Mitch talk makeup and skin care, Kirstie cutting in every now and again with her input. Avi and Kevin are discussing logistics for tomorrow which makes Scott roll his eyes. He's going to ban shop-talk when the food turns up.

But all his favourite people are in the same room, and it makes his heart happy. He settles down to listen.

\--

"Are you recording any new music, Scotty?"

Scott turns to Kirstie, who's shovelling the last of the fries in her mouth like someone is going to take them away. The sight makes him laugh. Who knew she could pack so much away in her body?

"Yeah, I'm working on the next album as I'm touring. It's a bit of a nightmare, trying to fit in writing and recording when we're on the road but Avi has our schedule down." Scott high-fives Avi before reaching for the last slice of pizza. Mitch reaches over at the same time, Scott's hand knocking into Mitch's.

"Sorry, go ahead," Mitch says, looking down.

"No, it's fine. You have it. I probably shouldn't. My fitness instructor will have a fit if I can't do my workout tomorrow." Scott nods over to Kevin who is passed out in the armchair in the corner of the room.

"I'm going to take him to his room," Avi whispers. He wanders over to Kevin, patting him lightly on the arm. "Hey, America. Come on. Night guys." They leave, Kevin calling goodnight sleepily.

It's not long before Nicole leaves too, wanting to call her friend back home who's looking after her puppy while she's on the road with Scott, taking Kirstie with her who demands to see photos. They're both giggling away as the door shuts behind them.

"Wow, we know how to empty a room," Mitch jokes. He grabs a bottle of water from the mini-bar before joining Scott at the head of the bed. He settles pillows behind his back before turning to Scott, concern on his face. "Are you tired? I'm sorry, you've been on stage, I didn't even think. Do you want me to go?"

Mitch starts to get up, but Scott reaches out to grab his arm, pulling him back onto the bed.

"No, you're fine. It's okay. Please stay...unless you want to go too."

"No, no. I want to stay."

They laugh softly at each other's stupidity.

"Then it's settled. I'm staying." Mitch falls back on the bed, getting comfortable against the pillows again, and takes a sip from his water. He looks soft and a little sleepy. Scott has no idea how he's going to be able to cope with it being just the two of them.

A silence envelops the room. It's not uncomfortable, per se, but this seems so much easier over text or FaceTime. Scott is struggling to keep his eagerness in check at having Mitch all to himself and not reach over and pull him into his arms like he wants to. His nerves kick up a notch. What if this doesn't work face to face? What if Mitch realises he's not all he's cracked up to be?

He watches Mitch twirl one of his rings around his finger.

At least he's not the only one nervous it seems.

"So…" Mitch starts. "Where to next?"

"I have no idea anymore. I'll get on the bus tomorrow afternoon and end up somewhere else. Five weeks left though, and then it's back to LA."

"Yeah?" He watches Mitch's eyes light up. It settles something in Scott. Maybe this could work. Maybe Mitch will want to hang out when he gets home. Maybe there is a future for them; friendship or otherwise. Scott is still hoping for otherwise.

"Yeah. Hey, do you want to hear my new stuff?" Scott reaches for his laptop. "I mean…if you want to. I know you're not a fan," Scott teases as he opens the lid. He watches out the corner of his eye as Mitch laughs low and hard. Scott's stomach flips at the sound.

"Sure. I'd love to."

They settle in to listen, and before Scott knows it, he's shown Mitch most of the album. He's been complimenting Scott almost non-stop. The blush on Scott's cheeks hasn't diminished in the slightest, which seems to be a permanent state of being around Mitch. He likes compliments, especially about his music, even if sometimes he doesn't agree. He said as much to Mitch, earning a slap on the arm.

He's switched over to his Spotify playlist in the last few minutes. They are both stretched out on the bed, lying facing each other, talking softly.

Scott learns about Mitch's love of Imogen Heap and cats. He hears about how much he hates his job "but it pays the bills and my shopping addiction, so I'll live". He listens as Mitch tells him how he met Kirstie at high school; through mutual friends who thought it would be a good idea to set them up on a blind date. Scott laughs at how mortified Mitch was to have to let Kirstie down gently but how a lifelong friendship was born from it.

In turn, Scott tells him about growing up unsure about where he fit in the world. How his anxiety plagued his teenage years, how he chickened out of auditioning for school musicals, and how it took a lot of patience from his choir director even to consider recording a demo.

Their voices get quieter and quieter until they're just looking at each other, eyes tired and bloodshot from exhaustion, but not wanting to end the night so soon. It's going to be a while before they get to be in the same room together. Scott feels it weigh heavy on his heart. He sees Mitch bite his bottom lip in thought.

"I should go," Mitch whispers. "You need to sleep."

Scott whines softly, earning a giggle from Mitch. He doesn’t argue, though. He really is tired, and he can only imagine how exhausted Mitch is too from driving so far to be here.

He sits up on the edge of the bed as Mitch puts on his shoes and gathers his phone and room card.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Mitch rasps as Scott walks him to the door.

"Definitely. I'll text you when I wake up."

"Okay." He crosses the threshold to the room but turns back to Scott. "Thank you for convincing me to come. I had a great time tonight."

Scott smiles. "No, thank you for coming. I know it was short notice. It's been nice though, to be able to talk to you without time constraints or through a screen." He leans against the door.

His bones feel heavy, sadness weighing at his limbs. He doesn't want Mitch to go. He's seconds away from begging him to stay when Mitch leans in on tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek. It's light and barely there, but Scott feels the burn on his cheek as Mitch pulls away.

"Goodnight, love."

Mitch turns to head off down the corridor. Scott puts his hand to his face in disbelief. He watches as Mitch gets to the lift. He turns back to wave and grin at Scott before he disappears from view.

Scott closes his room door and leans back against it.

"Dammit," he exclaims, banging his head on the door. Avi was right. He really does have it bad.

\--

Scott's had such a pleasant day so far, but he can't believe how fast the hours have gone; counting down until he's back on the road and Mitch and Kirstie drive back to LA. Slipping like sand through his fingers until he's left grasping at air.

It feels like only five minutes since Kirstie was banging on his door demanding he come down to breakfast. It seems he forgot to put his phone on charge before he fell asleep, earning a comment from Nicole about what had distracted him. He stuck his tongue out at her in response, glad that Mitch wasn't paying any attention to the exchange as he was slathering jam on his toast.

And now Scott's sat on the end of Mitch's bed, watching as Mitch packs away clothes and toiletries. His stuff is already packed and waiting to be taken down to the bus. They have no time at all before Avi comes to get them.

"Do you get any time off between now and the end?" Mitch asks, zipping up his case and leaning it against the wall next to Scott's. He sits next to Scott, pressed close again, and Scott has no idea how he's going to be able to let him go.

Maybe he can convince him to join him on tour.

No, that's a bit too weird, he thinks, mentally shaking his head at himself. Mitch has a job, and a life, and also Scott isn't that person. He knows how strange it would be to ask someone he's only really known a few weeks to join him on the road. He knows that they're still basically strangers, regardless of how much it feels like Mitch belongs in his life.

"I have a few days to visit my parents when we're in Texas, but it's pretty much non-stop until the last show."

"Oh, that's nice," Mitch replies, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "I bet you're excited for that."

"I really am. The last time I saw them was Christmas. So yeah, I have a few days with them before we're on the home stretch."

"Well, I hope you have a great time with them." Scott looks down at his hands, fingers fidgeting as he thinks of what to say next without sounding too sappy. Mitch sighs next to him and rests his head against Scott's shoulder, grabbing Scott's right hand in his left, lacing their fingers, and huh, they fit perfectly. "You better be coming to see me when you get home."

Scott giggles in response, jostling Mitch, who lifts his head to look at him. His eyes are wide and open, and so, so beautiful Scott feels hypnotised by them. He realises he's been caught staring when Mitch quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him; the softness in his eyes makes Scott squirm.

"I have this thing the first day I'm back, but I can come over after?" Scott enquires, unsure of what Mitch's answer will be. Too soon? He doesn't want to scare him off. His thoughts race around his head, making him dizzy until Mitch utters one word that stops them in their tracks.

"Perfect."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening. Updating because I love you all so much <3

The bus is pulling up to the next city when Scott gets a text from Mitch telling him they made it home, thanking him _again_ for a great night.

Scott feels his face go soft, feels the warmth spread through his body as he remembers how he pulled Mitch in for a hug before they left. Standing at the side of the car, Nicole talking with Kirstie the other side, whispering quietly between themselves, but sending furtive glances Scott’s way as Mitch said goodbye. Mitch sounded so unsure and sad that Scott couldn’t do anything but embrace him tightly, lump in his throat. He discovered Mitch was the perfect height for his head to fit under Scott’s chin, and it’s where Scott wanted him to stay forever. Mitch in his arms; tiny and warm and sweet.

Scott feels the tears well in his eyes thinking about it now.

Tour is nearly over. He’s never been so happy to think about the end.

“Game face, Scotty,” Avi says, coming over to pat him on the shoulder. “Showtime.”

The bus pulls to a stop at the venue. Scott can hear the noise of the crowd swell as he slips a snapback on over his messy hair. He pulls the brim down to cover his tired, puffy eyes.

“You have five minutes before we need to get inside. Ready?” Avi stands in front of him, adjusting Scott’s jacket and putting his hands on his chest. Scott reaches up and circles his wrists in thanks, nodding and clearing his throat.

“Ready.”

The door slides open, and then he’s descending the stairs, walking straight over to the crowd. Scott stops every few feet, taking selfies and signing autographs, letting the second nature of the process move him automatically, letting the noise wash over him until it’s nothing more than a constant drone. He gets to the other end and shouts his thanks to the crowd for coming out to support him.

Mindlessly, he lets Avi whisk him away through the open door of the arena, taking a bottle of water someone offers him gratefully and slipping his snapback off, holding it loosely in his hands. His ears ring in the sudden silence.

“Good job.” Scott laughs at Avi’s praise.

“Thanks. Where’s my dressing room?” He wants to talk to Mitch. Wants to see his face, even though it’s been less than twelve hours since they parted.

Scott knows Mitch would get a kick out of hearing what just happened. He tried to explain to Mitch what it was like; being famous enough to draw crowds of screaming fans. Fans that cry when he’s within feet of them (even though that still makes him uncomfortable), smile, or shout words of praise and love. Thrust posters at him for signatures and demand selfies. Sometimes he still has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not still lying in his childhood bed, dreaming about his wishes becoming a reality.

Avi shows him the way, closing the door behind him so he’s not disturbed. Avi gets Scott’s need for peace after that. As used to the mass of people as he is, or thinks he should be, it grates on his nerves. He won’t ever not be grateful for it though, so five minutes of fan interaction is nothing in the grand scheme of things. No matter how much he wishes he could slip in and out of venues unnoticed sometimes.

Pulling up Mitch’s contact, he pushes call, settling back on the sofa and running his hands through his hair as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

“Hey, pop star. Missing me already?” Mitch greets with, though Scott can tell he’s teasing.

“Like a knife in the chest,” Scott fires back, making Mitch guffaw loudly.

“I can hang up, you know.”

“But you won’t.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, babe.” Mitch winks through the screen as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Trip back okay?”

“Yeah. Uneventful. I’m exhausted though. Might have a soak in the tub and curl up in bed. You looking forward to the show?”

He isn’t. Not really. He always gets like this, though, towards the end of tour; wishing for his own bed, for his own house, for a period of time where he isn’t stuck on a bus, or in a hotel room, or backstage at a venue.

Mitch must pick up on his mood, quickly adding, “You can say no, babe. I’m really not going to think any less of you for it.” It’s makes Scott smile; reminding him of a time not so long back when Mitch said the exact same thing. “When’s your mini-break?”

“Next Thursday. Show’s Sunday night, then it’s straight back on the bus.”

“Five weeks, sweetheart. Five weeks until you’re done.”

“I can’t wait to get home,” Scott responds with. _To you_ is what he doesn’t add on the end.

\--

It’s Wednesday night, the day before he’s due in Texas, when his plans fall around his feet. His dad calls him, informing him that his mom has the flu and that it would probably be best if he didn’t see them. Scott can’t risk catching it.

“I’m sorry, son. We were really looking forward to seeing you.”

Scott drops his head into his hands. “That’s okay, Dad. I’ll come see you when tour is over. Tell Mom to feel better soon.”

“I will. Love you, Scott.”

“Love you too.”

Scott tosses his phone onto the bed and flops onto his back.

He was really looking forward to going home, to sleeping in a real bed, eating real food, with the people he loves more than anything. It’s obviously not their fault. It’s just one of those things, but with exhaustion weighing heavy in his body, he can’t stop the first sob that erupts out of his chest. Before he knows it, Scott’s crying so hard, he’s struggling to catch his breath.

When he finally manages to stop, his eyes feel like they’re swollen shut and his stomach aches. He rolls onto his side and curls up into a ball, hoping to make the world stop moving long enough to sleep.

Just as Scott starts to fall into a light doze, his phone buzzes on the bed next to his head. Wiping a hand across his face, clearing the last of the tears off his cheeks, he sits up and types in his passcode.

He clicks on the notification and can’t stop the smile that appears. He doesn’t want to stop it.

It’s a selfie of Mitch. The text underneath reads ‘Hope you have a great break. X’

An idea forms. He quickly texts Avi before he can second-guess himself. He cheers at Avi’s enthusiastic response when it comes.

Scott might not be getting to spend his break in Texas, but LA is his home too.

\--

Scott’s in a car on his way out of LAX airport when he calls Mitch. He knows he’s at work, knows that he isn’t going to be able to talk for long, but Scott’s excitement level has skyrocketed since the plane touched down. He can’t wait any longer.

“Hey, what’s up?” Mitch asks when he answers. There’s noise in the background and then silence when Scott hears a door close. “I’m at work. Are you okay?”

“How would you feel about an unexpected housemate for a couple of days?”

“Well, that depends. Are we talking about you or someone else?” Scott can hear the smile in his voice, can sense the quiet excitement in his tone, knows instantly he’s made the right choice.

“Me, obviously.” Scott rolls his eyes.

“Oh. I was hoping for someone else.”

“Ha. Ha. Hysterical. But no, seriously. I’m in LA right now.”

“Really? What happened to Texas?”

Scott tells him the story, leaving out ending up a sobbing ball of mess on his hotel bed part and concluding with the reason why he isn’t staying at his own place.

“I have renovators in. It isn’t going to be ready until tour is over. Please, can I stay with you?”

“Are you sure you want to slum it? Isn’t there a nice hotel you want to stay in?”

“No, absolutely not. I want to be normal for a few days. Come on, Mitchy. I’ll pay you with cuddles and ice cream.” Scott realises he’s begging, but he loves that Mitch is playing hard-to-get. Normal friends do this right?

“Well, a girl can’t turn down an offer like that.”

“Yes!” Scott cheers, making Mitch laugh.

“But I don’t get off work until five. Can you stop by here? You can grab my keys and let yourself in. Take a nap, or snoop through my things, or whatever.”

“I would never do such a thing! But if you’re offering…” Scott trails off. He can feel his cheeks start to ache from smiling so much.

“Great.” The dead-pan in Mitch’s voice makes him smile harder. He can’t wait to see him. Mitch gives him the directions to his place of work, listening as Scott repeats them to his driver.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“No worries, babe. Just come find me. Or, actually, I’ll wait by the door. My colleague will pitch a fit if she sees you.”

“Oh, a fan?”

“Obsessed, I swear, and now she knows I know you, she talks about you constantly. It’s a drag.”

“Well, I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“No, you’re not, but whatever. I gotta go. See you soon.”

Mitch hangs up, leaving Scott antsy and restless. He can’t keep his legs still, knees bouncing, fingers twitching, eager to see him again after only a week.

They pull up in front of Mitch’s workplace, and Scott spies him standing at the door, keys in his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As he gets out the car, Mitch comes to meet him, nervously looking over his shoulder back into the building, though his smile is blinding when he sees Scott.

“Seriously obsessed” is all he says, bundling the keys into his hand and pushing him back towards the car.

“‘ _Hey Scott_ ’,” Scott says, throwing a teasing smile at Mitch, trying to mimic Mitch’s high-pitched voice, knowing he’s so far off the mark, “‘ _How was the flight?_ ’ Oh, it was great, you know. ‘ _Good. I missed you_.’” Mitch rolls his eyes fondly. Scott pushes back gently against Mitch’s hands so Mitch can’t get him back in the car.

“Seriously, Scott. Please leave,” he hisses. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. You can have all the cuddles in the world when I get home.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott relents, “I’m leaving. Bye.” He drops a kiss on Mitch’s cheek, watching a blush alight his cheeks.

The door slams shut behind him. Mitch waves through the blacked out windows, though there’s no way he can see Scott. The car pulls away from the kerb. Scott looks behind, watching Mitch as he stands on the pavement, sees when Mitch fist-pumps the air happily, but quickly gathers himself together.

“Hey, can we stop at a store? I need to get ice cream.” He laughs happily.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, have chapter 8. Have a great weekend everyone. <3

“I’m sorry you couldn’t go home like you wanted to,” Mitch says, passing him the carton. Their hands brush as Mitch lets it go. The shiver that runs through Scott has nothing to do with the chill of the ice cream.

They’re sitting on the sofa; Mitch curled up at one end, legs tucked under him, Scott at the other, slouched so far in his seat he might as well be lying down.

Scott takes a spoonful before passing it back. He shrugs. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but I get it. I can’t afford to be ill, so it makes sense not to be there. I just miss them.”

Mitch leans over to the coffee table, putting down the carton and his spoon, doing the same with Scott’s when he hands it over.

“Tired?” Mitch asks. He reaches over and runs a gentle hand through Scott’s hair.

“Exhausted.” Scott can feel his eyes shutting of their own accord. In between always working and barely sleeping any the night before; both sad about not seeing his family, and far too excited about seeing Mitch, he feels like he could pass out. It’s taking everything to keep his eyes open and his brain engaged.

“Come here.” Mitch opens his arms to Scott. Scott falls into them none too gracefully, eliciting a groan from the smaller man. He buries himself in Mitch’s side, letting his warmth and scent overwhelm him until he feels drunk with it. He slides a hand under Mitch’s hoodie. “Don’t even think about tickling me.” The warning in his voice is evident, but it sparks the childishness in Scott.

“Oh. I wasn’t.” Scott slides his hand up, feeling soft, bare skin before digging his fingers into Mitch’s side. “But I am now.”

Mitch laughs, kicking his feet out and flailing his arms, almost smacking Scott in the face, but Scott ducks and keeps tickling. Keeps going until tears are falling down Mitch’s face, and threats of bodily harm are tumbling out between bouts of giggles.

“I hate you!” Mitch exclaims when Scott finally lets up. He smacks him on the arm, getting up from the sofa and putting some distance between them.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I really, really do. For that, you can sleep on the couch.”

Scott tilts his head in question. “I thought I was sleeping on the sofa anyway. You’ve only got one bed in this tiny apartment.”

Mitch looks at him puzzled but scoffs when it clicks. “You snooped!” He points his finger at Scott accusingly. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“You said I could,” Scott reasons. He can see Mitch isn’t mad at him from the smirk at the corners of his lips. Knows Mitch would’ve done the same thing had they been at Scott’s place instead. “But don’t worry, your secrets will stay hidden with me. Though, I want to ask about the collars.”

“Oh my god.” Mitch covers his face with his hands. Scott can see the spaces between flushing red in embarrassment. Mitch drops his hands after a minute and takes a deep breath before looking back up and locking eyes with Scott.

It’s like someone flicks a switch in the room. One moment, Mitch is red in the face, the next, the look changes to something  _ more _ . It’s positively feral, the way Mitch is eyeing him, eyes twinkling darkly and lips pulled into a sharp grin.

The tension in the room increases until Scott can taste it, can feel it hitting him from all sides. It makes Scott shiver involuntarily. The gulp of air he takes is audible in the silence of the room.

Mitch makes his way back over, stalking his way around the sofa, hips swaying. His expression never changes. Scott feels himself turn in his seat as Mitch moves his way around the piece of furniture, back rigid as he waits to see what Mitch does next.

He feels like he’s on one of those animal documentaries. Feels like he’s watching a predator stalking its prey. The snake and the mouse. Only Scott is the tiny mouse in this scenario. His mouth goes dry; his heart jumps to his throat. He can’t take his eyes off Mitch, feels his pulse in his toes, hears his blood rushing past his ears. He gulps again when Mitch stops in front of him.

Scott sits still, so motionless he can feel the tension in his jaw. Not moving a muscle, lest he breaks the spell. But he’s the one in a trance, and under Mitch’s gaze, Scott doubts he’d be able to move if he tried.

He startles out of it when Mitch climbs onto his lap until he’s straddling Scott, knees either side of Scott’s hips as he gets comfortable, ass resting on top of his thighs. His hands come up to rest on Scott’s shoulders, fingers teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. Mitch’s face stops within inches of his own.

“You want to know about the collars?” Mitch breathes the words across his face, voice barely audible but Scott can feel every single one, can feel the vibrations in his chest like Mitch shouted them.

Scott nods his head once in response. He clenches his hands into fists at his sides, not sure if he can touch. Not entirely sure where he’d settle them anyway.

The tension snaps when Mitch giggles softly and leans back. He doesn’t move off Scott’s lap though, and Scott really hopes he doesn’t move any further forward. Scott won’t be held accountable for anything Mitch feels, not when ten seconds before Mitch looked like he was oozing sex.

“I wear them with outfits sometimes. Normally on a night out. I just like the way they look. Nothing else. Breathe, Scotty.” Mitch teases and taps him once on the chest before finally climbing off. Scott takes a massive gulp of air. Mitch laughs again. “So, I’ll take the sofa and you can have my bed.”

It takes a second for Scott to remember what they were talking about before Mitch’s little show. Scott clears his throat, once, twice, before trying to speak.

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed,” he argues, standing from the sofa when he’s positive all the blood in his body has relocated back to where it should be. “I’m really fine on the sofa.”

“Scott, you’re about ten feet tall. You won’t fit. Besides, you need to rest properly, and you won’t do that on this lumpy thing.” Mitch kicks it for emphasis.

“I’m already putting you out enough being here.”

“You’re not. I promise.” Mitch’s expression softens at Scott’s worries. “But if you’re going to be so pushy about it, we’ll just share my bed.” He’s leaving the room, Scott following, but Scott freezes at his words.

“Share?”

“Yes, Scott, share.” Mitch sticks his head around the door frame. “Come on. It won’t be that bad unless you hog the covers. Then I’ll have to kill you.” Mitch winks at him. “We can top and tail if it’s going to ruin your delicate sensibilities.”

Sharing it is then.

\--

The sun has barely risen when Scott wakes up to gentle scuffles in the room. He lifts his head off the pillow he’s clutching in his hands, eyes squinting in the half-light filtering through the curtains.

“What’s going on?” Scott grunts sleepily, seeing Mitch sliding rings on his fingers and shoving his feet into shoes.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Mitch comes over to Scott’s side of the bed and sits on the edge slowly, barely even jostling him. Scott slides closer and curls around him.

“Where are you going?” He closes his eyes again. Mitch runs his hand up and down Scott’s bare arm making him sigh in contentment.

“I have to work. I’m sorry. But I’ll call you at lunch. Please, make yourself at home. There should be breakfast stuff, but I doubt there’s anything edible for lunch.”

“Don’t go. Call in sick. I’m needy,” Scott whines, putting his arms around Mitch’s waist and holding tight.

“I’m sorry. I gotta. Not all of us are millionaires.”

Scott lifts his head up, eyes wide. “I’m not a millionaire.”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.” Mitch drops a kiss onto his head and unclasps Scott’s arms from around him. “I’ll speak to you later.” He leaves the room, pulling it shut quietly behind him.

Scott picks up his phone to check the time. It’s only 6am. He can afford to sleep a little longer. He rolls over to Mitch’s side of the bed and pulls Mitch’s pillow to his chest, sighing happily at the scent that wraps around him. He lets sleep pulls him back under.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!
> 
> Happy Thursday - it is Thursday, right?

It’s coming up to lunchtime when Scott finally surfaces from Mitch’s room, dressed and ready to start his day. He looks around the apartment nervously, unsure about what to do with his downtime.

If he were at his parent's house, he’d be playing with his nephews and niece, but here, he’s alone and, as much as he loves being here with Mitch the place is still unfamiliar. 

Mitch doesn’t have any sort of games console that Scott can pass the afternoon with. None that he can see anyway. And he doesn’t want to text him at work to find out. He debates watching a movie - Mitch has an extensive collection from what Scott can tell, but sitting still isn’t him, unless it’s with company.

Looking through the cupboards for something to eat, Scott is surprised by how little there is. A bottle of BBQ sauce and a few bags of chips in one cupboard, box of cereal and a loaf of bread in another. He guesses Mitch must eat out a lot. Or maybe at Kirstie’s. Who knows. He shrugs to himself and pulls the box of cereal out, sticking his hand into it and grabbing a handful, eating it dry.

He leans against the counter as he looks around the apartment.

Scott wasn’t joking when he said it was tiny. Only one bed, with a bathroom attached to it. The kitchen and living area all in one with only a breakfast bar to cut the space in two. Scott wonders how long Mitch has been living here, how little he makes to only be able to afford something like this. Scott could walk from one side of the apartment to the other in a few long strides.

His phone pings on the counter as he thinks. Scott dumps the box on the side and brushes his hands together before picking it up, smiling at a text from Mitch.

‘i hope you slept some after i left. i wish i was there'

‘Me too’ Scott texts back with a grin on his face.

‘i’ll grab takeout on the way home. what do you want?’

‘Nothing. I’ll get it delivered. My treat’

‘no, Scotty. you’re my guest'

‘Shut up and let me treat you like a queen for the weekend’

He laughs at Mitch arguing. Scott’s so grateful for everything leading up to this moment.

‘you spoil me’, Mitch replies.

‘You deserve to be spoiled. Now suck it up. What do you want me to order?’

‘ugh fine there should be a pizza menu somewhere. make sure mine’s gluten free please’

‘Anything for you. How’s work?’

‘dragging and i can’t get away for lunch for another 30 mins’

Scott looks at the time. It’s 12.30pm now. He mentally calculates how long it would take to grab something for Mitch and drop it off to him. It’s doable unless Scott gets stuck in traffic. Which is possible considering it _ is _ LA.

‘Hey, don’t go anywhere for lunch’, Scott texts back, just in case he doesn’t make it in time.

Scott rushes back to Mitch’s room, slipping his sneakers on and grabbing Mitch’s keys off the side. He slips a jacket on and his wallet into his back pocket before darting out of the apartment, remembering his sunglasses at the last second. It’s not a disguise, but it should be enough so he doesn’t get stuck in public without security. Avi would be so mad at him if he could see him right now.

Waving down a passing cab, Scott asks the driver to take him to the nearest Starbucks, paying him an obscene amount of money to wait while Scott picks up coffee and sandwiches.

‘what do you mean don’t go anywhere? Scott?’

With a few minutes to spare, the cab pulls up outside Mitch’s place of work.

Scott runs a hand through his hair, slipping his sunglasses up onto his head when he’s done, and with the other, he picks up the paper bag and coffee tray. He thanks the driver as he climbs out.

He looks up at the building in front of him, suddenly feeling very nervous. He’s come this far though so, with a deep breath, Scott pushes the door open.

It’s not very busy inside. He can see a few customers looking at shirts on the right side of the room. An older gentleman is ringing up a customer at the counter. He looks at Scott and smiles in greeting.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice shouts from the backroom. Two seconds later, Mitch walks out, not looking up from the pair of pants he’s holding in his hands. “How can I- Scott?” Mitch glances around the room nervously, dropping the pants onto the nearest shelf. “What are you doing here?”

“I bought you lunch.” Scott offers the coffee and the bag up in front of him. He watches as Mitch’s face lights up at the prospect of food, but when Mitch looks him in the eye, it doesn’t change. His smile gets brighter if it’s possible. Hmm.

Mitch goes to speak, but squealing interrupts him.

“Oh my god!  _ Scott Hoying is here _ . Oh my god.”

Scott winces at the volume of the voice, turning slightly to see a woman frozen in place, hands in front of her mouth, tears in her eyes as she looks at him. Scott smiles sweetly at her before glancing back at Mitch, who’s frowning heavily and looks two seconds away from stomping over to her.

“Jess,” Mitch hisses.

“Mitch,” Scott warns.

Mitch turns back to face him. He tilts his head in question, huffing when Scott hands him the food.

Pasting his signature grin on his face, Scott walks towards the quivering person in front of him, holding his hand out for her to shake. “Hi, you must be Jessica. Mitch has told me so much about you.”

Instead of taking his hand though, Jessica leaps at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Scott chokes out a laugh and hugs her back, running his hand up and down her back comfortingly when she starts crying into his shoulder. “Hey, hey.”

Scott turns his head to Mitch, who’s holding back his laughter as Scott looks to him for help.

“Obsessed,” he sees Mitch mouth at him, giving him a thumbs up. Scott rolls his eyes.

Reaching behind his head, he gently unclasps Jess’ hands and drags them back in front of them, holding her wrists loosely in his grip.

“I’m sorry,” Jess says, wiping furiously at her face, smearing her mascara down her cheeks. Scott lifts a hand up to brush away the remnants.

“That’s okay, love. I love hugs.”

“Jimmy, can I take my break now?” Mitch asks. Scott turns to see him looking back warmly, not once dropping his gaze. Scott smiles softly at him, ducking his head.

“Yeah, sure, Mitch,” the man behind the counter says.

“Come on,” Mitch says to Scott, holding out his hand. “Say bye Jess.”

“Bye,” Jess whispers. Scott clips her softly under her chin and winks, before taking Mitch’s outstretched hand and letting Mitch pull him out of the store.

\--

“Thanks for this,” Mitch says as Scott puts the wrappers from their lunch back in the bag. He’ll dump it in the trash on their way out of the park. Mitch puts the bag on the floor by his feet and looks up at the sky.  _ He’s so beautiful _ .

Scott’s jacket sits between them on the bench, and he moves it to his other side so he can slide closer to Mitch. Lifting his arm, he places it on the backrest. Mitch moves closer so he’s pressed against Scott’s side. Scott drops his hand to Mitch’s shoulder and rubs small circles into the exposed skin of his collarbone.

The sun beats down on them, and Scott loathes the thought of Mitch going back to work. He wants to stay right here, bask in the warmth of this beautiful summer’s day with the person who is swiftly becoming his favourite. If he's honest with himself though, Mitch has easily become his whole world in the short time they’ve known each other.

Never has Scott clicked with someone like this; someone who laughs at his crappy jokes, who puts him in his place. Someone who sets him at ease, but also lights a fire under him, makes him want to be better, to do better. Someone he envisages coming home to, someone waiting for him at the airport when his tour is over, waiting with open arms. It’s a lot to wrap his head around, but he’s never been so ready.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Mitch teases, pulling Scott away from his thoughts. He nudges Scott with his elbow. “Or at least share your thoughts.”

“Nothing to share. Just relaxing.” No way is Scott going to scare him off with talks about the future. Nu-huh. Not happening.

“Lies, but I’ll let it slide because I have to go back to work.” Mitch leans forward, stretching his arms above his head. Scott’s arm slides down Mitch’s back, so as Mitch’s shirt rides up, Scott’s hand is on soft skin. Mitch groans. “Don’t even…” he warns.

“I wasn’t!” Scott protests, holding his hands up. “Promise.”

Mitch eyes him suspiciously, lips pursed, before standing from his seat. He reaches for the bag and Scott’s jacket. “Come on; you can walk me back. It’ll be easier to get a cab from the shop.”

Scott takes his hand again, slipping his fingers through Mitch’s to lace them together. He notices the pink on Mitch’s cheeks but chooses not to comment, worried that as soon as he does, the spell will be broken and Mitch will take his hand away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning/afternoon/evening. I was going to split this chapter up but couldn't bring myself to so here...

Scott’s browsing Twitter as he waits for Mitch to get out the shower. He’s been liking tweets and watching the fallout for the last ten minutes, laughing at the increasingly illegible reactions. He loves interacting with the fans, even if it’s just to tease them.

He stops when he sees a photo of him and Mitch; a picture of them from the park. He freezes. Scott can’t even remember seeing anyone around them.

It’s not a pap photo; he can discern that straightaway. The quality is awful, and it’s from so far away, but people have managed to work out it’s him from the shirt and the glasses. He feels more nauseous the longer he stares.

Scott clicks through a few responses underneath the photo until he sees it. Mitch’s Twitter handle there for the world to see.

Panic races through his body, rushing in so fast he has no chance of stopping it.

What the fuck?

He was so careful.

No one’s supposed to know he’s in LA, not even Kirstie does, or she didn’t until Mitch text her earlier, asking her to come over for lunch tomorrow. As far as the fans are aware, he’s already in Texas.

Fuck, what is Mitch going to think? Scott’s been trying so hard to keep him out of public view, not wanting to frighten him with the madness that is Scott’s life so soon. It was always going to happen eventually (Scott was hoping it never would - but Mitch was special to him and he wouldn’t be able to hide him forever), but Scott was hoping it would stay away until he was sure Mitch wouldn’t disappear.

And now, there’s no escaping the chaos that is going to become Mitch’s life.

“Hey, did you order the pizza?” Mitch asks as he comes back into the room. He’s running a towel through his hair, completely oblivious to the panic attack Scott’s having on his bed, not even four feet away.

Scott’s next breath catches in his chest, making him cough uncomfortably.

Mitch looks at him quizzically. Scott sees the exact moment he realises what’s happening when his eyes widen in surprise, and then Mitch is walking over to the bed, arms outstretched like he’s worried Scott is going to run.

Scott wants to laugh. The last thing he’s going to do is run. Between his head spinning and the black spots dancing in front of his eyes from hyperventilating, Scott couldn’t move if he tried. His body feels numb. Sweat drips down his forehead, threatening to run into his eyes. He lifts a shaky hand up and brushes it across his head.

“Hey, Scotty. Breathe,” Mitch says steadily. He climbs up onto the bed next to Scott, hands hovering like he’s unsure if he can touch. Scott wants him to, wants Mitch’s hands on him, needs the feeling of another to ground him, to remind him he’s not alone.

“Mitchy,” Scott whines between one choppy breath and the next, and that’s all it takes for Mitch to pull him into his arms. He runs his hands up and down Scott’s back, letting Scott shake and stutter through an explanation he knows Mitch will never be able to understand.

“Shh, shh. You can tell me in a minute. Let’s just breathe. Okay, sweetheart? We’re breathing right now. Nice and steady.”

Scott lets Mitch’s voice soothe him, lets it flow over his ears. This will probably be the last time he gets to hear it, gets to feel his arms around him, so he snuggles further into Mitch’s embrace. Mitch tightens his arms accordingly.

It takes a minute or two, but eventually, Scott can feel the panic subsiding. The feeling starts to return into his body. His skin prickles unnervingly but he ignores it in favour of focusing on the hand still running up and down his spine. It’s pleasant and firm, and it makes him want to melt into a puddle on the bed.

When he can finally catch his breath, Scott pushes himself up into a seated position. Mitch doesn’t let him go though, just moves with him until he’s sat next to him, still wrapped around him.

“Okay, that’s better. We're all right.” Mitch starts to pull away, and Scott grabs him roughly, trying to keep him on the bed. “Hey, I’m just going to get you a glass of water from the kitchen. You’ll be able to see me the whole time. See?” Mitch lifts his hand and gestures through the open door back into the main part of the apartment. Scott can see the fridge from here, knows that he’ll be able to see Mitch walk away, but more importantly, walk back.

Scott nods.

“Okay. Be right back. Promise.” Mitch drops a kiss haphazardly on the corner of Scott’s mouth and climbs off the bed.

And just like he promised, he’s back within thirty seconds, handing over the chilled glass to Scott, who gulps it down greedily, some spilling out the sides. Mitch hands him his towel, not saying a word until Scott has finished the glass and settled back onto the covers. Scott hugs a pillow under his chin. He knows Mitch isn’t going to want to touch after what he tells him.

“So, are you going to tell me what caused this? You were your usual, cheery self when I left the room.” Mitch settles cross-legged to the side of him, hand resting delicately on Scott’s arm.

Scott focuses on the lines on Mitch’s hand as he composes himself enough to speak coherently. He takes in the long, thin fingers; the bats tattooed on the back of his hand. Scott remembers he needs to ask what they mean. He studies the long, manicured fingernails, wondering if Mitch gets them done professionally or if he does it himself. They’re so gentle as they move up and down Scott’s arm. Scott can see the goosebumps Mitch’s touch leaves in his wake, can see how the hairs on his arm stand to attention.

“Scott?” Mitch pushes gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Rather than answering, he unlocks his phone and hands it to Mitch. Scott gulps nervously, picking at his nails. Mitch takes his hand in his to stop him, before focusing on what Scott is showing him.

Scott expects him to throw the phone on the bed; expects him to start screaming about how his life is ruined, about he’ll never be able to go out in public now without being followed or yelled at. How he’ll have to go into hiding. It’s happened to Scott before. He knows how this conversation is going to go. It’ll end up with Scott packing his bag and on the next flight to Texas.

“Oh my god. People are mental” is what Mitch says, startling Scott.

“What?” Scott asks quietly.

“Can’t they just let you have a break in peace?” Mitch hands him his phone back, looking indignant on his behalf. Scott stares at him. When Mitch finally looks at him, he raises his eyebrows at the disbelief Scott can feel written all over his face. “What?”

“You’re not… you’re not mad?” Scott asks.

“Fuck yes, I’m mad. Now you’re relaxing weekend is ruined.”

Scott freezes as he lets the relief wash over him, and then the tears start falling. He lets out a sharp breath, gasping for air on the inhale.

“Hey, hey. I thought we were okay,” Mitch says, pulling Scott back towards him, but Scott doesn’t let him.

“I thought you were going to be mad at me!” he exclaims, running his hands over his face. Scott laughs softly at himself for assuming the worst. He shakes his head and scrubs the tears on his cheeks away.

“Why would I be mad at you?” It’s Mitch’s turn to look at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Because they know who you are now.” If Mitch didn’t get it before, he will now, but he just waves Scott off like he’s talking nonsense. “But they will, Mitch! Just walking down the street people will be screaming at you and crying at you and making your life hell.”

“Scott, honey. Do you not think I worked all this out when I first started talking to you?” Mitch grabs his hands and pulls them into his lap when Scott goes to protest, making him lean uncomfortably to the side. “Hey no, look. I know what I’m signing up for here. I know that the tabloids are going to look for the skeletons in my closet. I’m aware that some of the fans are going to hate me, going to think I’m not good enough to be with you. I know that you’re super busy all the time. I know this isn’t going to be easy. But babe, I’m still here. I worked this out a month ago, and it hasn’t scared me away yet.”

Mitch reaches a hand up and cups Scott’s face in his palm. Scott nuzzles into the touch. Sparks fizz along his spine. His eyes dart back and forth between Mitch’s own and his lips. Mitch’s other hand squeezes Scott’s tightly in his grip.

“With you?” Scott says breathily.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Of course that’s what you pick up on.” He rubs a thumb across Scott’s cheek. Scott’s eyes flutter at the sensation. He can feel the gentle caress of Mitch’s hand in his toes, electricity dancing up and down his spine.

“Mitch?”

He really hopes this is going where he thinks it’s going.

Mitch leans in, coming up onto his knees so he’s above Scott. His other hand comes up to rest on the side of Scott’s neck. The feeling of Mitch’s delicate hands on him, in such intimate places for their close proximity makes Scott’s heart beat wildly out of control. Scott’s wide-eyed gaze darts between Mitch’s beautiful eyes and his plump lips and Scott feels like he’s died and gone to heaven.

“Scott? Tell me I’m not misreading this,” Mitch whispers, leaning ever closer. Scott can feel every word brush across his mouth, and it’s intoxicating.

Scott opens his mouth to respond, to tell Mitch that he very much wants this to happen, has wanted it to happen from the very moment he locked eyes with Mitch across a backroom in a venue all those weeks ago, but his phone starts ringing from next to them.

Mitch drops his head to Scott’s shoulder with a groan. Scott giggles and reaches to pick it up. It could be important, and Mitch knows this, pulling away, so there’s space between them. He doesn’t move far, though, settling down next to Scott on the bed and picking his own phone up off the side.

“Scott speaking… Hey Avi.”

\--

Scott’s sat on the sofa the following night, waiting for Mitch to get ready. Lunch with Kirstie and her boyfriend was changed to a dinner reservation when it was decided there was no point in Scott hiding anymore. The fans know he’s in LA so he might as well make the most of his last night off.

“But, please, for the love of god, Scott, take security with you if you go out afterwards. Just two guys, that’s all I’m asking,” Avi had begged during the previous night’s conversation - after he’d lectured Scott for over an hour about getting caught, of course. He was worried, and Scott couldn’t begrudge him that.

Scott forgets that his face was plastered on billboards and magazine advertisements when he released his last album; he forgets that his every move in public is scrutinised now. It’s so easy for him to forget that he’s famous now; when the people who surround him treat him like they always have. Like he’s the same goofy Scott who wore braces as a kid, had a very questionable fashion sense growing up, and couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line without tripping over his own feet. He still feels like that person, so much so, he has to do a doubletake when he’s walking anywhere and people are shouting his name.

So, after promising to be good and do what he was told, Scott booked them a table at one of the more prestigious restaurants for dinner.

Mitch had flipped out at him when he told him the change of plans, stressing there was no way he had anything suitable to wear to a place like that. Scott rolled his eyes. He just wanted a nice meal with Mitch and Kirstie; Mitch could’ve gone wearing a sack for all Scott cared, but he knew Mitch prided himself on looking good. Which was how they ended up spending their Saturday afternoon shopping.

When the car pulled up on Rodeo Drive, Scott rushed around to the other side to open the door for Mitch like the gentleman he is, but Mitch refused to get out.

“Scott, there is no way I can afford anything from any of these stores! I am  _ not _ a character out of Pretty Woman,” Mitch exclaimed, arms crossed, scowl set on his face. 

Scott leaned in through the open space. “Mitch, please, just humour me for a couple of hours. If you see something you like, great, but if not, at least you can try on a lot of very expensive clothes. But please, you need to get out of the car before someone sees me.” Scott eyed up the people on the sidewalk uncomfortably - lots of tourists and kids about. All it would’ve taken is one person to recognise him, and then the whole afternoon would have been over before it began. He cursed the fact he only had one guard with them.

Mitch had noticed his unease because he quickly unfolded himself from the car, taking the arm that Scott had offered him, and allowed Scott to drag him into Saint Laurent. As soon as he was inside though, Mitch had looked like he was in his element, eyes wide in awe, letting the personal shopper lead him around the store, trying on whatever he wanted.

Scott had taken to wandering around the store. He’d picked an outfit quite quickly; smart trousers, a blue, flowery shirt and white, leather jacket - his stylist would be proud. He had been content with watching the smile on Mitch’s face get bigger the longer he was fawned over by the staff; his own smile grew every time Mitch had asked him for his opinion, making sure to gush in the right places.

When Mitch had found out that Scott had asked the staff put everything behind the counter that Scott knew Mitch loved, rather than the argument Scott had been expecting, Mitch quietly mumbled his thanks, and tucked himself into Scott’s side for a hug that Scott had been only too happy to return. The amount of money they spent meant nothing to him; the happiness he had felt radiating from his friend meant so much more.

And now Scott’s waiting for Mitch to hurry the hell up and pick something to wear. Their table is booked for eight. It’s seven now. Kirstie is due in ten minutes, and Scott wants drinks before they go anywhere, but he’s been listening to Mitch sing quietly to himself for the last hour. And Scott really needs him to be ready soon.

Just as he’s standing from the sofa to go knock, the door to Mitch’s bedroom opens. Mitch walks out and Scott freezes.

He looks… he looks so good that anything Scott can come up with to describe him would not do Mitch any justice. Every word he’s ever learnt flies out of his mind. How the hell is he a songwriter when he can’t think of a single adjective right now?

Scott runs his eyes up and down Mitch’s body, taking in the tight black leather trousers he chose, along with the flowy sheer white shirt with embroidered flowers on the sleeves. He’s wearing a pair of four-inch high heeled boots that zip up to his knees, short silver spikes running down the back that Scott reckons must be his own because there was no way Mitch tried on shoes while they were out. Scott would definitely remember those.

Scott’s vision swims as he feels arousal run rampant around his body.  All the blood in his body rushes down, and Scott’s suddenly very glad his shirt is long enough to cover anything he doesn’t want Mitch to see. His wide eyes water and his throat feels dry when he tries to swallow against the well of emotions that are threatening his sanity. Scott takes a step back and the backs of his knees hit the sofa, making him fall on his ass. God, he’s an embarrassment.

Mitch giggles and shakes his head at Scott’s reaction, walking across the room to the kitchen, heels clacking on the hardwood floor with every step, meeting the throb of Scott’s pulse in his head. Scott’s eyes follow the swing in his hips. He rubs his sweaty hands across the tops of his thighs. Mitch pulls down wine glasses from the top shelf, his shirt riding up a couple of inches, revealing smooth skin that Scott’s hands itch to run along. His mouth waters.

“Want a glass?” Mitch asks as he pours himself a glass of red.

“Got anything stronger?” Scott replies, almost choking on his words.  _ Get it together _ , he mentally chastises himself. 

Rather than answer, Mitch reaches into a lower cupboard, leaning over, and Scott could kick himself for asking. 

“No,” Mitch answers when he stands up straight. Scott eye’s fly up to focus on a point above Mitch’s head, but from the smirk on Mitch’s lips, he knows he’s been caught.

Scott clears his throat again. “Wine’s fine then,” he replies, voice squeaky.

Mitch saunters over to him, handing his wine to him with wink. Their hands brush and Scott nearly drops the glass.

He’s so not going to survive the night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So I know how this ends... There's still plenty more to come, but there is now an ending in sight.
> 
> This chapter feels a bit repetitive but meh. I've had a bad day (bad week) so can't be bothered to rewrite it a different way. I gave it a cursory read-through but didn't really check for mistakes, so I'm sorry if there is anything obvious.

They’re sharing the second bench seat in the car on the way to the restaurant, looking out the window and watching the world go. Lights from the road flicker across Mitch’s face every time Scott looks over, which is often, unable to keep his gaze away for too long. The semi-darkness makes Mitch look otherworldly, like a fallen angel; eyes darker than normal, lips shiny and perfectly pink, skin smooth, pale and flawless. Scott swallows nervously at the intensity of his feelings, but presses himself closer into Mitch’s side all the same. There’s plenty of space in the car, but they’ve been gravitating towards each other throughout the ride (like they’ve been doing all weekend if Scott’s being perfectly honest).

“Thank you… for today. You didn’t have to do that,” Mitch whispers, messing with the rings on his fingers. He drops his head down as he talks. Warmth blooms in Scott’s chest.

Scott envelopes Mitch’s hands in his, ducking his head until he catches Mitch’s eyes. “I wanted to. There’s no need to thank me. And I know I haven’t said it yet, but you look beautiful.” He feels his cheeks flush red, but ignores it. It’s true what he said, and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Thank you.” Mitch glances away, clenching his bottom lip between his teeth, but Scott can make out the pleased smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Butterflies flutter in Scott’s stomach.

The car pulls to a stop a couple of minutes to eight, and instantly Scott knows he’s made a mistake.

They should’ve just stayed at home, ordered a pizza and watched movies in their pjs. It would’ve been so much easier than having to push their way through the, admittedly small, group of photographers that are gathered at either side of the entrance, fighting each other for space. There are people trying to hold them back, but nothing can stop the flashes, the shouting.

Scott has no idea who they are there for, but it can’t be him. There’s no way. He’s a nobody, nothing special. He writes music and sings on stage. This has never happened to him before and he can feel his blood pressure rising, can feel sweat prickle his skin. He adjusts the collar of his shirt, pulling until he gets the top button open, stopping the material from constricting his throat, from pulling tighter and tighter around his neck.

He struggles for air, fighting against every impulse to get out the car and run, and then there’s blessed silence as Mitch puts his hand on his arm, calming every single thought in his head. He can vaguely make out Mitch asking the driver to pull away from the curb, until they find somewhere to pull over.

“Scott, Scott, breathe. Like me.” Mitch tugs at Scott’s hand, placing it flat on his own chest until Scott looks at him, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Mitch’s chest beneath his fingers. He clenches his hand, digging his fingertips in, but Mitch doesn’t even flinch. “Come on, babe. Deep breaths, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

Drawing in air through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, Scott focuses on breathing in time with Mitch until the black at the edge of his vision fades, until the sweat turns cold and dries. He glances at the other people in the car; Kirstie - who looks frightened as she watches Scott fall apart right in front of her, and her boyfriend, Jeremy - who radiates calm and control, and Scott latches onto that feeling, lets it soothe the panic.

It’s fine, he’s fine. The car is moving. Nothing can get to him.

Scott turns back to Mitch, who smiles softly at him. He’s rubbing up and down Scott’s thigh with his free hand and Scott concentrates on the way it feels, skin tingling beneath two layers of clothing. The gentle caresses slow to as a stop as Scott becomes more and more aware of his surroundings.

“Hey. Good. Come back to me. It’s okay. We’re away now.”

He takes another deep breath, breathing so much easier now that there’s distance between Scott and what felt like a hoard of people out for his blood.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Scott mumbles, voice hoarse. He falls into Mitch’s side. Mitch’s arm comes up around his shoulder and Scott lets the weight of it calm him further. “Sorry, Kirstie, Jeremy.”

“Sorry? Why the hell are you sorry? Are you okay?” Kirstie says, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She’s twisted herself around on the row of seats in front of him. “What happened?”

“He gets anxiety and panics,” Mitch answers for him. Scott feels Mitch press a kiss to his forehead. He takes another deep breath.

“I know that, but is it always like this?” Her voice raises an octave and Scott winces, not wanting to worry anyone with his stupidity.

“Sometimes. I’ve only seen it happen twice and I’ve only been there once.”

Scott closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

“Sorry guys, I don’t think tonight is going to happen.” Guilt clenches at Scott’s stomach. Everyone dressed up nicely for a meal out, and now his stupid brain is letting him down, again. He’s such a mess.

“Scotty, hush. It’s fine,” Kirstie whispers. He feels her clasp his hand in hers and he squeezes once before holding on. “We’ll just go back to Mitch’s and order a pizza… unless you want to be alone.” Scott opens his eyes and sees her glance at Mitch.

“Up to you, baby.” Mitch kisses his forehead again.

“Pizza sounds great.”

\--

Mitch has been on the phone to Avi since they got back, and he sounds furious, practically screaming down the phone asking who the fuck found out where they were going. It’s been half an hour and he shows no sign of stopping soon. Kirstie and Jeremy sit on the sofa next to him, trying to get his attention, but all Scott can focus on is the smaller man in the room, pacing up and down the tiny space, face stormy and dark.

Scott hates himself; hates that he can’t seem to get this under control. Lets it ruin every good thing he wants. He hates his stupid brain, and he hates his stupid body. He just wants to curl into a ball in bed and not come out. Ever. Maybe it would be better for everyone, rather than having to deal with him any longer.

If Scott were anyone else, he would’ve been able to get out the car, head held high and ignored it. Walked into the restaurant and had an amazing meal with his friends; maybe drank a little too much. Gone clubbing afterwards; dancing with Mitch all night long, throwing back shot after shot until he couldn’t stand up. Maybe finally built up the courage to kiss him.

But he isn’t like that. And he hates himself for being so weak.

Scott stands from the sofa, ignoring Kirstie calling out to him and walks into Mitch’s room, closing the door behind him. He strips off his jacket and lets it drop to the floor. He unbuttons his shirt and pants, slipping out of both before climbing up onto the bed, pulling the covers up over his head until he’s buried underneath them. It’s dark and constricting, but it’s perfect right now.

Sometime later, the door opens and closes, jolting him out of the light doze he’d fallen into. There’s a slight pressure on the edge of the bed next to him, and then the covers are being pulled back until Scott’s squinting up at Mitch.

Mitch looks tired; eyes bloodshot and heavy. Deep lines crease his forehead in concern as he puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder, rubbing softly at his bare skin.

“How are you doing, baby? Want anything?”

Tears well in Scott’s eyes, but he pushes them back, sick of crying, sick of everything.

“No, no, I’m okay.” He looks across the room, focusing his gaze on something other than the well put-together person in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

Mitch hums quietly before saying, “Hang on, one second.”

Mitch stands from the bed, tugging his shirt off over his head. Scott feel his eyes go wide at the expanse of skin that’s revealed. Mitch folds it neatly into a square and places it on top of the dresser. He does the same with his pants, before easing himself into the space next to Scott.

“Okay. Why are you sorry?” Mitch says as he curls into Scott’s side, hand rubbing up and down Scott’s bare chest and it feels nice, feels amazing in fact, but he’s too stuck in his own head to really appreciate it.

“Because I ruined a perfect day. Because I keep making you have to deal with this. Because I’m a mess.”

Mitch leans up until he’s propped on his elbow. He doesn’t remove his hand, moving it to Scott’s arm, running up and down slowly. Goosebumps appear on Scott’s skin. He shivers.

“You don’t need to be sorry. For anything. I will gladly deal with anything you throw my way, because I want to be here.” Mitch leans down and kisses Scott’s shoulder. “And if you’re a mess, well, you’re my mess and that’s okay.”

This… again. The feeling of being Mitch’s, belonging to someone, having someone like him, hopefully more than like one day, despite his flaws. It sets his stomach fluttering, his heart beating out of the control. Scott feels a blush creep up his neck. But it’s a good feeling, so much better than the bad he’s forced to endure on a regular basis. Adrenaline courses through his body. He feels like he could run a marathon, lift a car over his head. His hands start to shake.

“Mitch,” Scott starts, “Please…” Mitch tilts his head to the side, a question in his eye. “Please kiss me.”

Mitch smiles at him, smiles so brightly Scott feels like he needs to squint his eyes. It’s like he's looking directly into the sun and it warms his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes until he’s sure he’s going to combust. But rather than lean over him like Scott wants him to, Mitch drops his head. His smile disappears as quick as it formed.

“I can’t,” he whispers, sadness in his voice.

And like that, everything Scott thought he knew about their friendship, about what they were becoming, turns sour. Tears well in his eyes, a lump forms in his throat.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

Scott starts to get up from the bed, intent on getting dressed. Maybe Kirstie will let him stay at hers, he doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa. It’s only one night anyway. He’ll be in Texas this time tomorrow. He makes his way over to his case. Scott’s so consumed by sadness, by disappointment (he’ll never be good enough); head swimming and chest aching, that he doesn’t notice Mitch follow him.

“Scott, stop. Let me explain. Come here.”

Scott lets Mitch guard him to the edge of his bed, making him sit. Mitch pushes his way between his legs, cupping Scott’s face in his hands so Scott has nowhere to look but directly at Mitch, no way of misunderstanding what Mitch is going to say.

“I’m not saying ‘no’. I’m saying ‘not yet’. Sweetheart, you’re leaving tomorrow. Leaving for another few weeks and the last thing I want is to get a taste of you and have it taken away so quickly.” Mitch pauses. He softly rubs his thumbs over Scott’s cheeks. “So when your tour is finished, if you still want me, I will be here.”

Scott starts nodding animatedly, bringing his arms up to hug Mitch around his waist. He presses his face to Mitch’s chest, placing a kiss to the skin underneath his lips.

“Okay. Five weeks. I can wait five weeks.”

He groans when he realises just how long that is.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry for the delay. Life stuff is hard and I'm getting help for it now, but I'm back and hopefully you don't hate me too much after this. :P
> 
> Thank you Joce for editing. Your notes always make my day!!!

Scott’s been in New York for the past week and it’s been nice. He hasn’t been stuck on the bus for hours, getting steadily more motion sick the longer he can feel the tyres spinning underneath him. He’s managed to carve together some semblance of a routine, even though he’s living in a hotel; going from his bed to interviews with various magazines to the studio where he’s working on his next album and then back to the hotel. He really thinks he needs to get an apartment out here for the amount of time he seems to spend in the place.

Getting to speak to Mitch is always the highlight of his day. Waking up to ‘good morning’ texts or silly snapchats, or a memorable public tweet telling someone off for a flippant comment they made about Scott (the fandom blew up about that one - Mitch’s follower count has tripled in the last couple of days). Falling asleep to the sound of breathing coming from the other side of a call, letting the soft exhales lull him into a deep, peaceful sleep; something he always struggles to achieve when on the road.

It’s getting harder and harder for Scott to wait. It’s getting harder and harder for him to remember the reasons why waiting to kiss Mitch was a good idea, not that he can do anything about it now.

It’s now four weeks until he’s finished with this tour and it’s dragging so bad. He’s never wanted to just say ‘fuck it’ and go home more than he has this week. But Scott pushes through; counting down to the moment he’ll be on the plane home, back to the place that holds his heart.

Tonight is Scott’s final night in New York before the next long drive down to Florida and the next show on the tour.

He’s packing his bags, cursing himself for not keeping his stuff more organised. Clothes litter the hotel room; hats, shoes, everything spread across the space. He has no idea how it’ll all fit back. He’s busy trying to squeeze in a new hoodie he bought from Acne Studios the other day when his phone starts ringing. 

Scott promptly drops everything and rushes over to where he plugged his phone in to charge. His face lights up when he sees it’s a FaceTime notification from Mitch and quickly presses answer, not even attempting to hide his excitement about seeing his favourite person again (even if he only saw his face a few hours ago in the car on the way to another writing session - four hours is way too long).

“BABY!” he shouts when Mitch’s face appears on the screen.

“Wow, someone’s had way too much sugar today,” Mitch quips, though the smile on his face matches the one on Scott’s own.

“Who needs sugar when I have you?”

Mitch drops his head into his hand. “Oh god, stop.”

Scott giggles. “So how was your afternoon? Finished at work now? Did you give Jess the t-shirt yet?”

“It was good. Very busy. Yes, I gave Jess the t-shirt.”

“Did she like it?”

“What- what was that? I can’t hear you over my blown eardrums.” He sees Mitch wiggle his finger in his ear and he giggles again. “That girl can scream. I swear, only animals could hear her by the end.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He isn’t. He likes making people happy. Mitch will have to get used to it if he intends on sticking around.

“No, you’re not, but that’s okay. Seriously, her reaction was so cute...” He tilts his head on the screen and glares. “... but if you ever tell her I said that I will scratch your eyes out.”

Scott raises his eyebrows and tries to look frightened, but it lasts about two seconds before he laughs. “Duly noted. So hey, I have a proposition for you.”

Mitch is going to say no. He is. Scott is under no illusions that Mitch is going to agree to anything. He doesn’t even like his music, so why he’d want to see  _ another _ show is beyond Scott, but Scott doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last another few weeks without seeing that face in person.

“It’s too soon for marriage proposals, Scotty-boy.”

Scott freezes for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

“No. It’s nice to know you think  _ that’s _ what I was asking, but no. We’ll try actually going on a real date first.” He winks at Mitch. Scott can see the pink dusting the top of his cheeks in the little box at the top of his screen as Mitch giggles, cute smile on his face.

“Okay, hit me with it. What does the pop star want this time?”

“My next show is in a couple of days in Florida…”

Scott can see the exact moment it clicks, when Mitch’s eyes widen slightly and his mouth hangs open.

“No,” is Mitch’s immediate response.

“But, Mitchy,” Scott whines. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, babe. But no.”

“Please, Mitchy. Please let me fly you out. And Kirstie. Only for a few days. Pretty please.” He really, really misses him and wants to cuddle with him in a king-size hotel bed. If whining gets Kirstie to another show as well, it will be a bonus. 

“No, Scotty. It’s literally four weeks until your last show. And then you have a while before you have to be anywhere. You can wait a little longer.”

“I really can’t.” Scott pouts at the screen, using all his remaining energy to make himself look like a kicked puppy. He’s tired after writing and recording all week, and even the excitement of talking to Mitch isn’t enough to stop his eyes from feeling heavy, gritty feeling setting in the longer he’s awake. 

He can see Mitch deflating, can see when he gives up trying to be stern.

“Ugh. Fine. Fine. Let me change some shifts around at work and see if I can get a few days off. But you are not paying for our flights.”

Scott is not afraid to admit that he squeals with happiness, but the smile Mitch gives him in response is worth it.

\--

Scott ends up paying for their flights and an upgrade on the room he was originally booked in for the few days he’s there. There’s nothing to say that Mitch even wants to stay with him (he made Avi book Mitch and Kirstie a double-room just in case), but the possibility is there and Scott wants to be ready.

After arguing with Avi and Kevin for a solid half hour about meeting them both off the flight at the airport, Scott is waiting not-so-patiently off to the side of the arrivals area of Miami International. He can’t stand still, bouncing on the balls of his feet and wringing his hands at his sides. Kevin is standing stoically to his left, looking so menacing that Scott can’t help but laugh at him.

“Relax, KO. It’s fine. We’ll be out of here before you know it,” Scott tries, but Kevin just grunts at him, side-eyeing a group of teenagers who’ve been steadily getting closer. 

But Scott doesn’t care. If they come over, they come over. Scott even brought a pen with him because the chances of him bumping into a fan were still quite high, despite no one knowing he was going to be in this place at this time. His schedule was kept under wraps once the arrangements were made for Mitch and Kirstie to join him. Most of his own crew think he’s back at the hotel right now.

A steady stream of people start making their way across the floor towards to exits, wheeling suitcases and laptop bags behind them. Their flight must have disembarked and Scott’s excitement level ratchets up a notch. He feels like he’s going to scream the more people that walk past him, none of them being the two he wants to see the most.

And then the crowd parts and he sees Kirstie; brown, curly hair bouncing as she walks, pulling a small case behind her. She’s gesturing animatedly as she talks, but when she moves to the side, Scott sees Mitch and Scott freezes.

Seeing Mitch on a screen and seeing him in person are two completely different things, he realises. On a screen Scott sees what Mitch wants him to see, from what angles Mitch thinks works best for him (though Scott thinks he looks good always), but in person, there’s no hiding anything. It takes Scott’s breath away every single time he sees him.

His legs start moving involuntarily towards the pair who’ve yet to spot him.

“No. Scott!” Kevin says, forcefully grabbing his arm to keep him at his side, but Scott tugs it away, steps purposeful as he strides across the tiled floor.

Mitch locks eyes with him the closer Scott gets, grin wide and eyes squinting as he realises who he’s looking at. He stops still, setting his case next to him just in time for Scott to reach him and pull him into his arms. Scott’s arms lock around Mitch’s shoulders, holding him to his chest and he breathes a sigh of relief that Mitch is here now; he’s in his arms and Scott never wants to let go again. 

\--

“You’re an idiot” is the first thing Avi says to him when they get back to the hotel. They’ve not even made it into the lobby of the hotel yet, Avi having met them at the door.

Scott stops, letting Mitch and Kirstie go ahead. Mitch looks back at him in concern, but Scott smiles at him, trying to look like he’s not about to be told off. “Why am I?” He knows exactly what Avi is talking about though, so he at least tries to look a little sheepish.

“You were seen.”

“How bad is it?” Scott asks, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Well, it was fine, until your little walk across the floor, straight into Mitch’s arms. Honestly, Scott, what were you thinking?” Scott knows Avi is just looking out for him, looking out for the both of them, but it still stings a little that he’s being berated for something that makes him feel good.

“Oh, Avi,” Scott whines, turning away and rubbing at his face. “I wasn’t, okay? It just happened. Mitch was there and I wanted to hug him. What the hell is so wrong about that?”

Avi holds his hands up in front of him. “Hey. I’m happy for you. I really am. I think Mitch is great for you. There is nothing wrong with any of it. If you want to be with Mitch I support it one-hundred percent. But you were the one who wanted to protect him from all this. The fandom is freaking out. They think it’s a confirmation of your relationship and they want answers.”

“Why do I have to confirm anything?”

“To me, you shouldn’t have to. But you know they won’t leave Mitch alone until they get what they want.” Avi walks over to him and puts his hands on Scott’s shoulder, looking directly into Scott’s eyes. “It’s entirely down to you, though. I’m here now matter what. Okay?”

Scott nods.

“But I have an idea if you want to throw them off for a little while longer.”

Scott tilts his head in question. “Go ahead.”

“You aren’t going to like it…”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually really anxious about this chapter - to the point where i was making myself sick thinking about it earlier, so posting it and running away. love you all <3
> 
> ***warning for a kiss without consent***

****Scott fixes the collar of his shirt in the mirror, adjusting his blazer over the top. He’s nervous and he shouldn’t be. It’s just dinner with a friend of Avi’s who happens to live in Florida. A friend who needs the publicity that being seen with Scott will bring. Scott’s not exactly thrilled with the idea, but it’ll work to throw the fans and tabloids off who Mitch is, or at least off their relationship status, so Scott will take anything he can get.

But it’s Mitch’s first night here, the first night they’ve seen each other for just over a week. (And god, it was the _longest week ever_.) He feels bad for doing this; guilt biting at his stomach, although Mitch promised it was fine, that he understood. If that didn’t make the guilt bite harder.

Scott had very different plans for this evening. Plans that included a ton of room service, a movie or two, and maybe cuddles if Scott played his cards right. Now, he’s going to be pretending that the food he’s going to be eating is better than the burger he had planned, that the person opposite him is the most interesting person in the room, that he absolutely doesn’t want to be back here in this amazing suite with the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Yes, he agreed to the idea.

He didn’t have to like it.

“Why are you doing this again?” Mitch asks from his spot at the head of their bed. The bed they will be sleeping in, together, for the next few nights. Scott’s heart skips a beat at the thought.

Mitch had agreed to share a room with Scott, had already assumed that’s what he thought they were doing. The smile that had bloomed on Scott’s face made his cheeks ache after a while. It didn’t dampen down even as they entered the suite; Scott lugging Mitch’s suitcase behind them like the gentleman his mom raised him to be.

Scott turns from the mirror. Mitch is flicking his thumb across the screen of his phone, but Scott can tell he’s not really looking at it, eyes glazed over as he waits for Scott to answer. He glances up from under hooded eyes. Yes, definitely the most beautiful person Scott has ever seen.

“It’s a friend of Avi’s. I guess he has a new EP coming out soon. His manager reckons being seen with me will drive the sales up.” Scott sighs. He hates the politics of the job sometimes. He hates it _all the time_ actually. But tonight he’s especially annoyed.

“Isn’t that a bit…wrong?” Mitch says. He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed next to him, giving Scott his full attention.

“I guess. I don’t know. I just get told when and where to be. Which…” He looks at his watch. “...I’m going to be late if I don’t leave soon.”

“Okay. Come here.” Mitch kneels on the bed and comes over to the edge closest to Scott. Scott stands in front of him, looking down as Mitch adjusts his tie (“ _Scott, for the love of God, please wear a suit and tie tonight. It’s a fancy place and I don’t want the record label calling me screaming about image and tabloids_ ,” Avi pleaded when he’d called Scott to let him know what time he needed to be there). Mitch’s tongue is peeking out as he concentrates on getting the knot settled in the right place. What Scott wouldn’t give to have that tongue elsewhere right now.

Heat rushes up his body and Scott takes a step away, clearing his throat. Mitch smirks at him. He knows the effect he has on Scott and it’s taking everything in Scott to not jump him. Sharing a room for the next few nights is going to make difficult enough to keep his hands, and mouth, to himself.

_Get a grip_ , he thinks. They promised to wait, and wait is what Scott is going to do. It doesn’t stop him from leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Mitch’s cheek though.

Four weeks until the end.

“Okay. You look great. Text me when you’re on your way back?” Mitch settles back against the pillows, reaching for his phone. Scott has to physically drag himself away.

“Of course. See you later.” He blows Mitch a kiss as he shuts the door behind him.

Game time.

\--

“So, Scott, how’s tour been?”

Scott’s been sat in this restaurant for over an hour making small talk and he wants to pull his hair out. He twirls a strand of spaghetti around his fork and concentrates on not looking bored. They’ve been watched since they walked through the door and it makes Scott’s skin crawl. Faking interest is exhausting.

Christian, his “date” for this evening, is, for lack of a better word, dull.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s a nice enough guy. Kind and polite; thanking the hostess as they were shown to their table, thanking the waiter as he took their order. He’s not bad looking either; cropped, ginger hair, chiseled jaw. His fans must be falling all over him.

But he’s not Mitch.

Scott can’t help but compare every little thing Christian does. He holds his fork wrong, his laugh is a little bit too low, his eyes green rather than brown. He hasn’t laughed at any of the jokes Scott tried to crack at the beginning of their dinner to break the ice and ever since then, Scott’s been counting down until he can go home.

“It’s okay,” Scott answers, shrugging his shoulders. He sets his fork down and wipes the corners of his mouth with the white cloth napkin, wincing at the stain on the fabric. He hates eating at places like this. It makes him feel like he’s something he’s not and it’s so far away from the life he actually leads. Scott dreads to think how much this meal is going to cost.

Of course, money isn’t an issue for him now. Hasn’t been for a while. But he’s conscious of the fact that all it takes is one bad album for his popularity to nose-dive and the royalties to stop rolling in. And he hates spending money unnecessarily; surprise shopping trips aside.

“Only ‘okay’?” Christian asks, setting his own fork down on his plate. Scott winces at the clatter.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s amazing. You sing the songs you wrote to a crowd of people who love and appreciate you. It’s a rush. But it’s hard work too. Really hard sometimes.” Scott thinks about the person who’s waiting for him back at the hotel, waiting for him to finish this dinner, finish this tour.

Scott knows Avi has already changed his flight after the last show to an earlier one so he can get back to LA as soon as possible. Would Mitch mind if he went straight to his rather than going home? Maybe he should ask Mitch to come to the event that night with him as his plus-one.

A million plans run through his head. Is Mitch a dinner-and-a-movie kind of guy? They really need to go on a date when he gets home. Or, okay, that sounds so unoriginal. They could go to the arcade and Scott could wow Mitch with his skills on the claw-grabbing machine, take him for a walk along the pier, watch the sunset.

Scott’s so focused thinking about Mitch that when Christian coughs politely, Scott jumps in his seat.

When he looks across the table, Christian is looking at him questioningly, head tilted to the side.

Scott clears his throat. “Did you want to order dessert?”

\--

“Hey, so, like, can I get your number? Just so if I have any questions or need any advice I can call you,” Christian asks as he pushes his chair under the table. Scott is getting a headache from how many times he’s had to force himself to not roll his eyes.

Their evening is over. Thank god. Scott is anxious to get back to the hotel. He hopes his cab is already waiting outside, so Scott can get the fuck out of here. There’s a Mitch waiting for him and Scott wants to be by his side immediately.

“Um, yes, absolutely.”

Scott stalls for a moment. He pats his pockets down, pretending to look for his phone, ignoring the rectangle shape in the inner pocket of his blazer. “You know what, I left my phone at the hotel. But you already have Avi’s number so if you ever need me, you can call him. He’s a lot better at advice than I am.”

Lies, it’s all lies. Scott doesn’t feel bad about it one bit, not even with the obvious disappointment on Christian’s face.

“Oh, okay. Well, thank you for a lovely evening. It’s been great to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Scott replies, shaking Christian’s outstretched hand. “I hope everything works out for you.”

“Thank you.”

They walk towards the entrance where the hostess is waiting with his jacket. Scott winces when he sees the paps waiting outside the doors, cameras already flashing, shouts audible even through the thick glass. The path to the open cab door is clear though, so with his trademark smile on his face, Scott opens the door to the restaurant, gesturing for Christian to go first.

Scott follows him to the door of the cab where Christian is waiting with a hand on the door.

“If you’re ever in Florida again, maybe we can meet up for a few drinks?”

“That sounds good. Maybe we can drag Avi out next time.”

Christian rolls his eyes before placing his hand on the back of Scott’s neck, pulling him towards him. Scott has enough time to think  _oh fuck_ before Christian is kissing him. The flashes increase and the noise level rises as the paps push closer and closer.

“ _Scott, is this your new boyfriend?_ ”

“ _Are you cheating on Mitch Grassi?_ ”

“ _Do your fans know you’re gay?_ ”

It can’t have been more than a couple of seconds when Scott pushes Christian away, wiping at his mouth furiously. His heart thumps painfully in his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers vehemently so they aren’t overheard.

“Bye Scott. Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

Christian winks at him, taking a step back before turning to walk away. Scott wants to punch his smug face. He clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

Anger fizzing in his veins, Scott falls into the cab, pulling the door shut behind him. The cab pulls away from the curb and Scott drops his head into his hands. He groans in frustration.

“Oh fuck.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, i love you all <3

Scott knows the press works fast. Has known first-hand how quickly your private business becomes public property as soon as it’s published on the internet. Images can be shared across the world instantly. He’s seen reputations ruined with a few words, seen lives destroyed with a five-second video clip.

Scott’s phone chimes in his blazer pocket. When he’s managed to unlock it with shaking fingers, anger still buzzing through his veins, he freezes at what he sees on the screen. His body goes cold and his next breath gets caught in his throat.

It’s a text from Avi. Attached is a screenshot of a pap photo. Underneath he’s written ‘I’m sorry’.

‘Has Mitch seen it?’ he shoots back. There's a really small chance he hasn't and Scott grabs onto that with both hands, uses it to calm his racing heart. Though he still feels like he’s going to be sick. He swallows against the lump in his throat and takes deep breaths.

One word is all it takes for Scott’s world to come crashing down around him.

‘Yes’

Scott groans and rubs at his eyes.

He shouldn’t have gone out. He should’ve just stayed in with Mitch and none of this would have happened. Watched a movie, ate lots of food and gone to bed with his favourite person.

It was Scott’s idea to protect Mitch, even though Mitch said he didn’t need it. He did  _such_  a  _wonderful_  job of that. It’s only going to get worse now.

His phone buzzes in his hand as his Twitter notifications go off. He stares at it, trying to keep up with the ‘what happened to Mitch?’ tweets, when emails and texts start coming through one after the other until he turns it off completely.

_This is such a mess_ , he realises, running his hand through his hair.

The cab pulls up in front of the hotel. Scott climbs out slowly, hoping that the slower he walks the slower his fate is sealed and he’s left alone. Again. He really can’t go through this again; he doesn’t think he has it left in him.

Before Scott knows it he’s stood in front of their hotel suite. Does he knock? Use his key? He has no idea what to do right now. There has been no word from Mitch, so Scott doesn’t even know if Mitch has seen it, he might not even be here, but sometimes silence can be just as telling.

With a deep breath, Scott slides his keycard into the slot. He swears his heart is going to give out from how hard it’s beating as he waits for the light to flash green. When it does, Scott pushes the door open and steps into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He rounds the corner and stops.

He’s here.

Mitch is sat in the middle of the bed, clearly waiting. He’s watching the tv, though the sound is muted. Tentatively, Scott walks the few feet to the edge of the bed and waits. To be shouted at, to be walked out on, he has no idea. But he will wait and take whatever consequences he’s rightfully brought on himself. He clasps his hands together in front of him and bites his bottom lip anxiously.

Mitch turns to look at him and Scott stops breathing.

His eyes are hard, almost black as his gaze drifts over him, standing out because of how pale he’s gone. His back is ramrod straight. The only sign he’s anything other than  _furious_  is how his clenched fists shake in his lap.

And just like that, Scott knows this conversation is not going to go well.

“Hi,” Scott mumbles, voice cracking nervously. Mitch doesn't even twitch.

A beat passes where they just stare at each other, and then Mitch drops his head, hurt evident in his face as he looks away. Oh god. The absolute last thing Scott expected Mitch to be was hurt. Angry beyond all measure? Yes. Ready to smack Scott in the face and tell him to never speak to him again? Yes. But not hurt. Scott is an idiot.

“I'm an idiot,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Mitch scoots away slightly but doesn't move far. Scott takes it as a good sign.

Mitch laughs in disbelief. “Yeah, you really are.” He lifts a hand up to rub at his face before turning back to look at Scott. “Are you okay?” he asks.

For a moment Scott is baffled.  _That_ happened and Mitch is asking if Scott's okay? He stares at Mitch until Mitch rolls his eyes.

“He obviously forced himself on you. Anyone with a brain could see that.”

“Oh. Then, yes, I'm fine.”

“Unless you wanted it to happen,” Mitch sighs. His voice is quiet and unsure, and it very much does not sound like a question.

Scott jumps up from the bed to pace up and down the length of the room. His jacket flutters behind him as he walks and his anger builds.

Did Mitch really think Scott wants that when _he_  is here waiting for him? Mitch, who ever since he walked into his life, is Scott's every waking thought, has the lead role in every dream. The person who is the first person Scott has talked to every day for weeks, who is the last person he speaks to every night, regardless of where he was in the country. Who is gorgeous and funny and understands Scott like no one else?

Who Scott is, quite possibly, falling in love with?

“What? No. Of course, I didn't want it to happen. Are you kidding me right now?”

“Well, you spent our first night together at a dinner with this really gorgeous guy. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“No, really. Are you joking?” Scott waves his arms at Mitch. “Have you seen you? Why the hell would I do that? Mitch, I wanted to be with you tonight, more than anything.”

“Then,  _why_  did you ask me to come here if you weren’t going to be free?”

“It was last minute, and I couldn’t say no,” Scott tries. When Mitch quirks an eyebrow, Scott hangs his head. “I thought that with how intense people were getting, trying to find out who you are, what you are to me, how long you’ve been around, I thought I’d try and throw some of the heat off you.”

“‘I thought’, but Scott, what about what I wanted?”

“What do you mean?”

Mitch shuffles forward and sits at the end of the bed, looking up at Scott. He gestures for Scott to sit next to him and he does. He leaves enough space so that he doesn’t crowd Mitch, but Mitch moves closer anyway. A reassuring pressure against his side. Scott doesn’t deserve it.

“Scott, I don’t care if people find out who I am. I really don’t. I don’t know where you’re getting this idea that I’m going to run away. I don’t know who in your past has made you feel like that. I don’t need to know, but I don’t need protecting.” He reaches out his hand and grasps onto Scott’s tightly. “I am here. Through it all. They can camp out outside my apartment block; they can find out where I work and wait outside there. I. Don’t. Care. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

Mitch leans over and rests his head on Scott’s shoulder. His thumb strokes soothing patterns into the back of Scott’s hand.

“I’m an idiot.”

Mitch laughs. “Yes, you are. But you’re my idiot.” At Mitch’s words, an echo of what he said in his bedroom just over a week ago, Scott smiles. And realises he needs to tell Mitch the truth. Why he’s so intent on protecting him from the outside world. Why it isn’t easy being in a relationship with him.

“I, um, I need to tell you something. But can I have a shower first? I feel gross after that.”

“Yeah, of course. I need to text Kirstie anyway. She was ready to come scream at you for me.”

Scott scoffs. “She’s tiny. I’m not scared of Kirstie.”

“Well, you should be. She can be quite Mama-bear when she wants to be. Anyway, go take a shower and I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”

“Scotty, I’m not leaving. I promise.” Mitch kisses him on the cheek and Scott blushes.

Right, shower, and then talk.

He stands from the bed and makes his way towards his suitcase, grabbing his towel and a clean pair of underwear. A thought comes to him as he reaches the threshold for the bathroom and he stops, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey, Mitch?”

“Hmm.” Mitch looks up from his phone.

“There’s no way that guy is in the same league as you. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. He didn’t hold a candle to you.”

Scott wonders if you’d been able to see the smile he gets in response from space.

Probably, he decides.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so this is dialogue heavy. It's this Scott's backstory, including a brief coming out story and a bad relationship. 
> 
> Also, there are only two chapters left after this! :( 
> 
> I love you all. I've had a rough few days, but getting through it. You all keep me sane and make me feel loved, so thank you. <3

“So, is this a wine conversation?” Mitch asks Scott when he walks out of the bathroom. Mitch has dimmed the lights, turned the covers down on the bed and set the pillows up into a v-shape ready for them to settle against. It looks cosy and comforting. Scott smiles. Soft music plays through Scott’s bluetooth speaker that Mitch must have found in his case and, although this is going to be the hardest conversation he’s ever had, Scott feels at peace.

Maybe it’s the setup Mitch has created, maybe it’s Mitch himself, he doesn’t know, but a warm feeling spreads through his chest.

“Um, maybe. I’m not really sure. I haven’t had to tell anyone before. Avi lived through it with me and no one else knows the entirety of what happened. Just bits.”

Mitch nods. He puts the wine bottle away and takes out two bottles of water instead. Scott grabs a pair of sweats to pull on as Mitch gets comfortable. When Scott’s ready, Mitch opens his arms to him and Scott settles against his chest, head resting on his shoulder and arm across Mitch’s stomach.

They sit in silence for a minute, Scott enjoying the feeling of being in Mitch’s arms. It should be awkward; Scott is a lot bigger than Mitch, but in his arms, Scott feels safe. His past can’t get him here.

“I’m going to tell you a story, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt me once I start. This is going to be hard enough without having to stop.”

Mitch hums. “Of course, baby. You don’t have to tell me anything though. I’m happy with whatever you’re willing to share.”

“No, I need to tell you. I’m surprised you don’t already know some of it. Parts of it were public knowledge when I was first starting.”

“I don’t really pay much attention to that sort of stuff. Life is hard enough without people talking about other’s business. Kirstie might know things, but I don’t.”

“Okay, well. Here goes.”

Scott takes a deep breath and…

“I was sixteen when I came out to my parents. It wasn’t an easy conversation. They love me no matter what, but I was so scared. Texas can be quite conservative and people like us aren’t always accepted, as you can probably imagine. Maybe you went through it yourself, I don’t know. I was a mess. Shaking and stuttering and nearly had a panic attack, but they calmed me down and said that they will always love me, that I should never be scared to tell them things. We cuddled on the sofa and had ice cream and that was that. I was out. My sisters were next, and they were fine with it too.

“When I was ready I started to tell a few close friends. Most were okay with it, a few were confused, but as a whole, it went well. And then one person started to drift away. Mom said it was just part of growing up, so I shrugged it off and moved on. And then another did the same and then another. My little circle of friends, some of whom I had known since middle school, soon became three of us. Me, Nate and Dani. The others would talk to Nate and Dani, but no one wanted anything to do with me, except maybe for a few passing words. Nothing bad, but nowhere near like it used to be.

“I’m always of the opinion that what will be will be, but teenage Scott was heartbroken. Closed himself off to most people and hid away from the world.

“Music was my escape. It still is. Creating music I can lose myself in means everything to me. No one could touch me there. Not my best friends, not anyone at school, my parents. No one and nothing. I wrote so many songs when I was younger. Only two of them were ever released.”

“‘First Time’ and ‘Far from the Stars’,” Mitch mumbles.

“You remembered,” Scott smiles. “But yeah, it was those two. I said at the show you came to that I like people interpreting my songs any way they want, but ‘First Time’ is about what everyone thinks it is, or rather the feelings behind it.” Scott shrugs. “This story isn’t about that, but yeah. And ‘Far from the Stars’ is about dreaming of something so far out of reach it might as well be among the stars.

“But anyway, I left school, started college, and then I got discovered. A record label had seen one of my old school performances and contacted the choir director. She got in touch with my parents, who called me. I sent in ‘First Time’ as a demo and within a couple of months, I was signed and living in LA. It was a whirlwind. I was going to parties I’d only ever dreamed about and meeting people who I had admired for years.”

“When did you meet Avi?”

“I met him at college. When he graduated, he needed a place to stay, so I told him to pack his shit up and move in with me. He’s great. He knows when I need pushing, when I need grounding, when I need help. He’s been my rock throughout this whole thing. A year or so later, I asked him to be my manager and the record label agreed and it’s been that way ever since. My career was taking off. We released an EP and it was number one in the download charts. I was selling out venues and my follower count on Twitter was climbing, soaring. I had made it. I had reached the stars.”

Scott pauses and sits up. He grabs the bottle of water that Mitch offers and takes a sip. The hard part is coming and Scott is ready for it to be over. He settles cross legged next to Mitch on the bed, playing with the label on the side of the bottle. When he finally looks up, Mitch is smiling softly at him. He looks relaxed, in no way rushing Scott to speak. Just sitting and looking at Scott, being there. 

“Nate reached out to me on Twitter. I called him one day and he told me that he’d come out as bi and was moving to LA as well and wanted to see me. I felt like a bad friend. I hadn’t meant to leave him and Dani behind, but with the way my life had gone, I had no time to visit my family, let alone see any old friends. I invited him to the house one day. Avi had gone out with friends. We had a few drinks and one thing led to another…

“I wasn’t looking for someone, but all of a sudden I had a boyfriend and a career and I was so happy. The happiest I’d ever been. We spent all our time together. Events, gigs, dinners, everything. I saw him every day for months. And then his name got leaked. A small group of superfans found out who he was. I was fine with it. I didn’t want to hide who I was, who I was with.

“He hated it that they knew who he was though. Most of the fans were great, but some started to say some really horrible things. They got shut down by the others, but he saw a lot of it. Don’t forget, I wasn’t that big back then and everything was noticed. 

“It was little comments he’d make at first. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t post that’ or ‘I wish we didn’t have to do this’. I brushed most of it off. Ignored it maybe. But then he’d make excuses to miss things. He’d miss shows. Disappear for days on end. When we were in public together, he was there but not really. Always,  _ always  _ looking at his phone. He’d scowl if anyone came up to me for an autograph.

“My first studio album was released and I was so fucking ecstatic. We had a party at a local club to celebrate.  _ Everyone _ was there. Execs from the record label, my team, family, friends. Mom and Dad already knew who Nate was so there was no awkward first meeting. We invited a few special fans to say thank you for supporting me. Everything was going so well.

“And then this guy showed up. He had a camera. He’d been asked to photograph the event for social media and I knew about it, Avi knew about it, but Nate didn’t. And he flipped out. He’d had way too much to drink and was swearing and throwing things. Paps who were called to publicise the event were at the windows. I started panicking. Full on freaking out.”

Scott feels his heart start to race in his chest as he talks. Mitch grabs his hand tightly as he takes a deep breath and it calms again.

“Security threw him out. The label was disappointed. I nearly lost my recording contract.”

Tears start falling down his face.

“Avi was so angry. I’ve never seen him like that. He threatened Nate if he ever came near me again.”

“Go, Avi,” Mitch giggles. Scott smiles. He wipes at his eyes and sniffs.

“Yeah. Well, it worked. I haven’t spoken to him since. But ever since then I’ve been so scared about letting anyone in. Letting anyone get close enough to be noticed. My fans now are great, but there are so many, Mitch. I’d hate if it happened again. I can’t let it come between us. I’d rather give up my dream than lose you. I can’t lose you, Mitch.”

He’s tugged back into Mitch’s arms, huffing at the sudden movement. Mitch holds him tightly to his chest, rubbing a hand up and down Scott’s back.

“You won’t lose me. And anyone who has anything bad to say, or tries to start anything, are they really your fans? Yeah, they might listen to your music and buy your merch, whatever. But the ones that matter are the ones who love you. Who tweet you nice things and tell you how you saved them, or draw you pictures, write fanfiction, and cover your music so beautifully. None of the bad matters.”

Mitch pauses to resettle them. He holds Scott’s hand so gently in his that a lump forms in Scott’s throat. He blinks to clear the fresh tears that threaten to fall.

“Scott, I don’t think you realise how much you mean to me. And that was a bad move on my part. I should’ve told you sooner.” He sighs and shifts a little before looking straight into Scott’s eyes, gaze unwavering. “Scott, I’ve never met anyone like you before. Someone who is driven to succeed no matter what, but doesn’t forget where they came from. Someone who cares deeply for everybody, whether friend or stranger. Someone who, despite everything you’ve been through, is still so kind and compassionate, thoughtful and loving. People don’t even realise that when they meet you, they are meeting the real you. The one who tells crappy jokes to make people smile. Who laughs at his own crappy jokes. Who lights up a room with his smile and makes a room happier just by being in it. 

“I had an idea of what you were going to be like when I first met you. Stuck up, arrogant, I had stereotyped you. And you were nothing like that. You made Kirstie’s whole year by just taking a selfie and talking to her for a few minutes, and then we got called back to your dressing room and you were just you. Gorgeous and funny and  _ you _ .”

Tears spring to Scott’s eyes the longer Mitch talks. 

“Scott, you make me so happy, and I’m so glad I followed you on Twitter. Remind me to thank your stylist for that jacket by the way.”

“Hmm, oh Candice,” Scott sniffles. “She’s around somewhere.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow then.”

They lie there quietly for a while before Scott speaks again.

“But, yeah, the anxiety got worse after that. I keep meaning to go see a doctor for it, but I never have time. I’m always working. On tour, in a studio, events. And I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“Scott, you need to make time then. It’s not going to go away by itself. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. If it’ll help, I’ll come with you.” His cheeks flush and he looks away. “I mean, I can sit in the waiting room or…”

“Mitch, I would love it if you came with me. And thank you, for listening and understanding.”

“Anytime. Thank you for sharing. I know that wasn’t easy.”

Scott laces his fingers with Mitch’s. “It’s easier with you.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning!!! This is a short chapter so don't expect too much. This girl is in a good mood and going to work happy today! Love you all <3

Scott’s been dozing for the last hour, still wrapped up in Mitch’s arms, head against his shoulder, as Mitch quietly sings along with the music that’s still playing from across the room. He feels comfortable and warm, his heart full and his mind clear. It feels so good to have finally told Mitch everything, feels even better that Mitch hasn’t left. He’s still got a lot to make up for with the dinner, but now he knows that Mitch isn’t furious with him, hasn’t jumped on the first plane out of Florida, he has time.

Mitch isn’t going anywhere.

A knock sounds at the door, making them both jump. Mitch giggles.

“I’ll go see who it is.”

He presses a kiss to Scott’s forehead before climbing off the bed. Scott snuggles into the space he’s left, grinning into the pillow. His eyes are tired and his throat is sore from talking but he’s so happy that he doesn’t care.

“Hey, Avi,” Mitch says as he opens the door.

“You’re still here?”

Scott hears the door click shut, and then Avi rounds the corner.

Mitch pulls a face. “Of course I’m still here. Why wouldn’t I be? What is it with people expecting me to leave?”

“I’m sorry,” Avi apologises, not taking his eyes off Scott. He looks worried, but Scott can see his shoulders drop in relief. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“What are you doing here, Avi?” Scott asks. He pushes himself up into a sitting position. As he reaches for the bottle of water, Avi sits next to him.

“I wanted to see how you were. Scott, I’m really sorry for what Christian did. I had no idea he’d do something like that.”

“How could you have known?”

Avi shrugs. “I’m still sorry. And I’ve taken care of it.”

He says it so seriously that Scott almost snorts. Scott glances at Mitch. Mitch’s lips are twitching as he suppresses his own amusement, eyes starting to water. Scott covers his face with his hands.

“What? Why are you laughing?” Avi asks, just as Mitch’s giggles break free. He clutches the wall to hold himself up, which sets Scott off as he rolls onto his side, clutching his aching stomach.

Through his tears, Scott notices the moment Avi realises until he too laughs, low and hard. It makes Scott’s heart vibrate in his chest, shaking away the last of the sadness from the evening.

“‘ _I’ve taken care of it_ ’,” Scott imitates, dropping his voice an octave and trying to sound like a mafia boss, but failing miserably as he can’t stop laughing. He wipes the tears that have fallen with the corner of the pillow.

“God, you two are like kids. I  _meant_  I’ve spoken to his manager. Apparently, this was his final attempt to break into the market and the record label are days from dropping him. They’re going to push it through sooner. Good riddance in my opinion.”

That sobers Scott up. “Avi, what happened to giving people a second chance? ‘Everyone deserves forgiveness’ or whatever you’re sprouting normally.”

“Not when it comes to you. Scott, you’re my family and no one messes with that.”

Scott smiles and pushes himself into Avi’s arms.

“I don’t deserve you. Any of you.” Scott looks over at Mitch, who’s leaning against the wall, smiling softly at the scene before him.

“You deserve to be happy.”

\--

“I’m going to head to bed guys. It’s getting late and you need to sleep.” Avi looks pointedly at Scott.

After Avi came to check on Scott, Mitch convinced him to stick around to watch a movie. And to be honest, Scott’s grateful he did; Avi’s presence calming him until the events of the night were a distant memory.

Scott nods at Avi, giggling when Mitch whispers “Yes, Dad” in his ear.

He vaguely hears a camera shutter go off, but he’s too busy staring at Mitch to pay any attention. It’s only when Avi says “You two are disgustingly cute” that he looks over to him.

“Huh, what? Who’s cute?”

Avi’s smiling at his phone. He offers it to Scott. He’s managed to capture them mid-laugh. Scott with crinkled eyes and his hand over his mouth, face half hidden behind Mitch’s head. Mitch turned into Scott’s neck, hand hiding his face.

They  _do_  look cute.

“Post it,” Scott says, decisively. Mitch raises his head from where it’s resting on Scott’s shoulder, surprise written all over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You said it yourself, you’re not going anywhere and I don’t want to hide us. I did all that to protect what we are, not hide you completely.”

Mitch’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears and he starts nodding. “Okay.” He turns to Avi. “You have Scott’s login details for Instagram?”

“Of course. What am I putting as a caption?” His fingers fly over the screen, until he stops, looking up at Scott as he waits for an answer.

Scott hums as he thinks.

“‘My everything.’ That’ll work I think.”

Mitch snorts. “The press will have a field-day with that.”

“Let them. It’s true.” Scott brushes Mitch’s bangs away from his face. Mitch stares at him, face flushed and lips parted.

They jump when Avi clears his throat. “Sorry to kill the moment, but Scott, bed. Sleep. You have a show to do tomorrow.” He looks at his phone. “Geez. Today. Love you America, ‘night Mitch.” He waves goodbye to them and seconds later the door clicks shuts as he leaves.

“Did you really want to do that or were you just trying to make up for tonight?” Mitch asks. He gets up from the bed and starts tidying up, hands fluttering over their things on the dressing table in the corner. Scott can sense the nerves rolling off him.

He gets up to follow and stops just behind Mitch, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He drops a kiss on Mitch’s shoulder and rests his forehead against the back of Mitch’s head.

“I mean it.”

Mitch turns in his arms and smiles up at him.

“Well then. Good. You’re my everything too.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Feel free to ignore this part and move onto the chapter if you want but I just needed to say something.
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind words. Thank you so much for your support, your words of encouragement, your love (especially when I’ve been having a bad day). You have no idea how much it means to me.
> 
> I started this story as a one-shot and hoping it would be 6k words. It’s now 17 chapters and over 30k. I’m going to miss this universe and these boys.
> 
> But onwards and upwards.
> 
> The next prompt fic will be posted in a little while. It’s already written and edited - I just need to post it. Make sure to subscribe ‘Scomiche: The Prompt Series’ if you haven’t already so you don’t miss it. Also, if you want, follow me on twitter. My username is xxCat1989xx. Let me know if your usernames are different so I know who you are!
> 
> Anyway, onto the main attraction. Enjoy the last chapter. Let me know what you think. There is no epilogue, but there might be a follow-up chapter in the future. ;)
> 
> I love you all so much.

_ Four weeks later… _

“Today’s the daaaayyyy,” Scott sings as he walks into the green room. Avi laughs at him and Nicole rolls her eyes, but Scott doesn’t care.

Does. Not. Care. With capitals.

Tour ended the night before with an amazing final (second) show in LA, and even though Scott should be exhausted, should be completely ready for a break - rest his voice, rest his body, sleep until he starts work again on the new album - he’s excited for tonight. He’s so thankful that Avi managed to set up this one small last show, just for friends, family and a few lucky others. His support act from tour agreed to perform a few songs beforehand and were more than happy to let Scott ‘borrow’ one of their songs. He’s going to really miss having Michael and Carissa one room away, one bus away at all times. 

“How are you not exhausted?” Kevin moans as he lies on the sofa, arm across his face. “I’m ready to collapse and I wasn’t on stage for months.”

Scott shrugs, taking the offered apple and water bottle from Avi, and sitting in the chair in front of the mirror so Nicole can do his hair and makeup. 

“Adrenaline, I guess.” He takes a bite as Nicole runs her hands through his hair. She winks at him through the mirror.

“Nothing to do with what you have planned tonight?”

Scott feels heat rise in his cheeks. “I mean, maybe. What time did Kirstie say they’ll be here?”

“Um, about seven, I think. Told her to text us when they’re here,” Avi replies, checking the time on his phone. “It’s six now. You have an hour to get ready. Michael and Carissa go on in thirty minutes.”

Scott grins. Tonight is the night.

\--

Avi picked a pretty great venue for Scott to do this in. He's stood at the edge of the stage, peeking around the red curtain that cuts off the backstage area. It can hold the hundred people that were invited easily without everyone being squashed together. Leather sofas are dotted around the edge of the room, people sprawled across them in twos and threes as they wait for Scott’s crew to finish setting everything up. 

Other people are milling about, greeting each other like long lost relatives. His sisters sit off to the side, laughing with Nicole, tears rolling down their faces. Scott dreads to think what that could be about.

A light flashes across the room, drawing his attention to the bar area. His eyes graze over a bunch of people he vaguely recognises from the record label, until he reaches Mitch and Kirstie. His heart skips a beat and butterflies whip up a storm in his stomach. They stand at the side of the bar, drinks in hand. Kirstie is looking around the room, pointing out various things to Mitch. He’s trying to look interested, but Scott can see he’s nervous. Scott can see him wringing his hands at his sides; he’s bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and keeps messing with his hair. 

And for once, Scott isn't nervous at all. He doesn't feel anxious in the slightest.  He feels oddly at peace. Ready to get this show on the road. Ready to put his plan into action and start the next chapter of his life.

He watches as Avi walks over to Mitch and Kirstie, guiding them closer to the stage as planned. Mitch arches his eyebrow as Avi gestures for them to wait there. Scott giggles, ducking back behind the curtain as he draws the attention of the people standing closest to the stage. 

Avi walks around the curtain a few seconds later, quirking his eyebrow at Scott, who’s still smiling like an idiot. 

“You ready to go yet or do you need a minute?”

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Scott says, taking a sip out of his bottle of water and adjusting his in-ears. He smoothes down the front of his shirt and tries not to mess with his hair. If one hair is out of place, Nicole will notice.

“No, really, are you okay? Normally, you’re a mess, and as much as I love seeing this version of you, I just wanted to check before you go out.”

Scott hums. “I’m fine, really. I feel good. Great, even.”

Avi steps over to him. “I’m so glad.” He hugs Scott briefly before pushing him towards the stage. “Now, get out there and sing.”

Scott laughs.

Avi nods towards a tech. The lights dim and the music starts.

Okay, here goes.

\--

There’s no better feeling to Scott than standing on stage, on his own, with only the music backing him. No band, nothing. It feels stripped back and raw. Allows him to really fill the stage with his presence. He feels free and giddy. Giggling between songs, talking to the crowd. It’s even better knowing that the people out there are the ones who’ve supported him from the start, the people who helped shape him into the performer he is now. People who helped him write songs, who gave him the opportunity to sing, who listened to him when he needed to vent, or cry. People who allow Scott to be the best version of himself.

He’s been on cloud nine since the first song, working his way through a smaller set list than the one from tour, but still filled with the songs that everyone knows. It’s great hearing them sung back to him, even better being able to actually hear it instead of screaming, though people are still cheering and hollering every time he riffs particularly hard.

He wants to cry, laugh and scream in equal measures.

Scott’s on his last but one song when he finally looks over at Mitch, scared to look any sooner for fear of messing up, of not being able to tear his gaze away. 

Mitch waves when he notices, grinning up at him, smile brighter than any light shining on the stage. He’s mumbling something, and it takes Scott a second to realise he’s singing along. It makes him stutter his words, laughing quietly as he struggles to pick the next line up. Mitch winks at him.

Scott thinks there’s nothing better than being on stage, but he realises in that moment that he’s wrong.

There’s nothing better than seeing the person who you love, and yes, he does love Mitch (with everything he has), looking back at you with the same feeling in his eyes. His heart feels full, and though, he should be nervous about the next song; should, looking back at recent history, be an anxiety ridden mess, he feels none of those things. He’s happy. For the first time in a long time, he’s genuinely happy, and it’s all thanks to the person who is looking up at him, awe and love and happiness written all over his face.

He sings the last few lines, music fading out until there’s no noise other than his own pulse beating a steady thrum in his ears. Everyone stands quietly, waiting until he speaks, or the next song starts. A few looks pass among the crowd the longer the silence carries on until Scott clears his throat.

“So, this next song is the last. Also, it isn’t mine. It’s one Us The Duo were kind enough to let me borrow. It’s one that’s spoken strongly to me over the last few weeks.” He looks at Mitch, lets his gaze focus on him and only him. Makes sure Mitch is the only person he can see in the room. Hopes that Mitch realises that this is only for him. “I realised some things on tour; some things about myself and the people around me. What I want for myself and my future. This journey has been amazing, but it’s only got better since I met you.” 

Scott sees the moment Mitch realises he’s talking about him. Sees it in the way his eyes light up in surprise, but his smile never falters, never dims. He ducks his head shyly for a second when Kirstie elbows him, but when he looks back up, his expression is sure and steady and Scott knows he’s made the right call by letting Mitch into his life, letting him into his heart.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, speaking frank and honestly into the microphone.

“You showed me a better way to live. To not let the bad outshine the good. To take a moment for myself and remember why I’m doing this. To let people in again, because there are people out there who don’t want something from me, people who let me be myself, who embrace the crazy that is my life. That there’s always going to be someone there; no matter the time, or day, or distance between us. So, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

He turns to the crowd as a whole.

“Thank you all for coming out at short notice, it means a lot. This is ‘No Matter Where You Are’.”

The music starts, and he launches straight into the song, not taking his eyes off Mitch the whole time. Warmth blooms in his chest as the song goes on, a buzzing settling under his skin as Mitch stares back.

As he finishes the second chorus, he jumps off the stage, heading towards Mitch. Mitch’s eyes widen and a blush alights on his cheeks the closer Scott gets to him.

“What are you doing?” he hears him say, but Scott ignores him, grinning as he sings the next part.

“ _ We can be the generation who learns how to love _ ,” he sings, chuckling quietly as Mitch starts to back away from him, pointing at him threateningly but smiling all the same. He follows along, not allowing Mitch to get too far by grabbing onto his hand. “ _ Mistakes and empty promises will never be enough. So tear apart these giant hearts that beat inside us now. _ ” The crowd parts for them, smiling faces carrying them along. They clap along to the music and cheer and Scott’s grinning so hard he struggles to sing. “ _ Let's conquer the percentages and rise above the crowd _ .” He pulls Mitch to a stop, dragging it out the last word as long as possible. The cheers around them get impossibly louder.

He spots Michael and Carissa out the corner of his eye and hands them the microphone. They pick up the last chorus, singing and dancing with the crowd, everyone singing “no matter where you are”, not stopping even when the music finishes.

Stepping up to Mitch, he cups Mitch’s face in his hands, leaning closer so he can talk without shouting. The noise of the room fades around them as he focuses on the person in front of him.

“You’re a nuisance,” Mitch laughs, wrapping his hands around Scott’s wrists. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Scott leans closer, nose touching Mitch’s. “Then believe this.” He swoops down and presses his lips to Mitch’s, trying to keep it simple, but when Mitch opens his mouth under his, Scott wraps his arms around Mitch’s shoulders, sliding his tongue into his mouth, tasting and learning. A shiver runs down his spine. 

The people around them cheer and holler and whistle, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s been waiting for this.

It’s the best first kiss he’s ever had. Soft and sweet and everything he imagined it to be. Everything he wanted from the moment Mitch stepped backstage at the venue so many weeks ago.

He’s so glad Mitch made him wait. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop now he’s had a taste.

They part as the noise around them starts to die down. Scott keeps his arms around Mitch though, refusing to let go even as he can see people coming over to congratulate him. Mitch grins up at him, eyes bright and sparkling. His fingers are rubbing circles into Scott’s waist. Scott presses a kiss to Mitch’s forehead and drops his head down until his forehead rests against Mitch’s shoulder.

“Hey Scott,” Mitch whispers in his ear. Scott hums to show he’s listening, not ready to move away just yet, even as Avi claps him on the back to get his attention. “So I lied when I said I didn’t like your music.”

Scott lifts his head in surprise. The corners of Mitch’s lips twitch in amusement.

Well then.

**Author's Note:**

> Social media links in bio.


End file.
